The Polo Dream I Had Last Night


So, I’m at a tourney, right?

But it’s not just a regular, run-of-the-mill tourney, as every single bike polo player I’ve ever met/heard of/seen is there, and little old me. I’m on a team with Jessi from Lexington and Dodi from Hungary. We’re up in one game, and we’re waiting courtside.

The court is under a huge tent-like covering, and has a dark tunnel to go to the gates. We’re under there chatting about strategy (Jessi wanted to form a wedge formation and let Dodi take shots on goal, where as Dodi wanted to do what he called “the Hurro-hurro-cane” which involved spinning in opposite directions until the other team was out of place, and then scoring), but once the game that was on was over (between Biddle/Lomax/Valentine and Schultz/Kruse/Birdie), the ref and judges left, too. So we’re just staring at this empty court.

The Beaver boys roll up, as they are on after us, and Kremin says he can be ref for us, with Joey and Dillman as goal judges. The only hitch, says Kremin, is that he can only call every other infraction, and that Dillman has been drinking so much that he’s pretty much blind.

I decide to find the organizer and get other people to ref.

tentSo I ride my bike to the organizers tent, which is an actual Coleman tent with the flap closed. I hear a lot of naughty noises from in there, so I’m kinda scared to “knock” but I clear my throat and out pops the head of Danny from Florida, who tells me that “whoops, you better get back there, they just lined up.”

I’m panicked, because sometime between pedaling to the sexual healing Coleman tent and being told this, I’ve changed into a button up shirt and slacks, and lunch has been put out for players (bbq chicken, orange jello, some sort of mush that you’d see in that version of Peter Pan where Robin Williams just keeps shouting BANGARANGGG), so while I’m worried about missing my match, I’m also not a dummy.

I eat a drumstick and a slice of orange jello, apparently made by Kristalynn Helms (who makes great food for polo players) and run inside (inexplicably my childhood house has appeared) to change into my polo gear. But now I can’t find my mallet. And then I can’t find my bike. And then I find my bike, but my mallet is missing again. So I realize that they’re going to start without me, and just walk back to the court where, I learn, my team has replaced me with someone else, and they are up 3-0.

Not wanting to interrupt a good thing, I sit on the sideline and watch my team as they compete. I overhear Lumberjack arguing with Kruse about what “makes for the very bestest polo player” and I get involved.

I don’t remember what point I was trying to make, but at one point I pointed at Kruse and made a series of excited monkey noises, to which Lumberjack put his hands in the air and said “okay, you have a point there.”

After my point was made (whatever it was) someone tapped me on the shoulder to see Elena Mironova introducing herself to me with a hug.

At this point I freaked out and woke up.

Sharing is Caring
Facebook Twitter Stumbleupon Tumblr Digg Email

Add a Facebook Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *