It has become a yearly tradition to attend the Demolition Derby in Cheney. So we were pretty excited the weekend had finally arrived. We showed up an hour early to save our seats in the grandstand (they promised a packed house).
Donnie sat in the rain for 45 minutes, but it was worth the front row seats. I’m pretty sure Donnie would say the same.
Sitting right up front, we get to watch everybody walk by. From a chick wearing a “Chicks dig me” shirt to cowboys in skinny jeans with plaid button-downs to a guy we often see at volleyball outings.
“Bob!” I yell, wanting to be polite. Bob waves back and asks if we have space near us.
Me: Yep. Come on up.” The more the merrier I always say. When I’m drunk, which I wasn’t. It was weird that I said that.
Bob introduces us to his wife. I say “Nice to meet you.”
She says, “We’ve met before. I was AT your wedding.”
I’m thinking, “Yikes how rude of me to not remember seeing her at my wedding.” She continues, “You looked WAY different back then.” I no longer feel bad for not remembering and now refer to her (in my mind) as “fun sponge.” She keeps talking, “How long ago WAS that?”
Me: “Se-seven years.”
Donnie: “6 years.”
She says again, “Well, you look VERY different.”
I straighten my nest of hair poking out the back of my hat. I mouth to Donnie “Very different?” He shrugs: “Glasses?”
I ask her why her son (who we also play volleyball with) didn’t come. Bob said jokingly, I think he either didn’t want to come or had something better to do.
I replied, “What could be better than this?!”
Fun sponge: “I could think of a lot of things.”
I mention that we come every year and that we always had fun.
She said: “Well it’s way too dangerous. I don’t know why people do stupid things like this.”
She continued: “And the bull-riding too. I don’t get it and I can’t watch it.”
“Of course, it rains and we have to sit out here.” Really lady? I just told Anya that it’s more fun in the rain.
She kept talking. “Oh great. Someone said we’d get hit with mud sitting this close.”
I finally responded, unwavering enthusiasm, “It’s all part of the fun!”
She changed the subject, “His name is Donnie?” Donnie: “Yes.” She mentioned that her brother’s name is Don, but it’s really Donald and he hates it.
I’m frantically trying to find someone, anyone, talk to. “Riley, what is that in your mouth? A used lime from someone’s Sonic drink? Silly baby.”
She continues to talk but I pretend I don’t hear her. Eventually her daughter shows up so she can sponge her fun.
Due to the packed grandstand, I was sitting uncomfortably close to her. But I angled my body away and tried to constantly appear preoccupied by the kids, which wasn’t difficult.
We still had so much fun. I guess it rained too much for the fun sponge.