That's Sick

Held prisoner
and nowhere to run.
(The only reference to running here is that I was training for my first half marathon when it happen. Take heart - anyone close to celebrating four oh might find a nugget of fun. read on)

Beth over at http://www.shutupandrun/ locked me in her basement this past summer. Maybe you were getting your car lubed or at a bar in July of 2008 and glanced at a streaming live-time news show from a mounted flatscreen and saw this. It's not me. But it could've been. Here's the deal.

Last July, I embarked on a never-been-done-before-children, all-by-myself trip. Couldn't wait. I was headed to visit my dear, dear friend, Beth in Longmont, CO. I even bought a 'airport outfit'. Travel day was my ACTUAL 40th birthday - got a free glass of wine during my layover in Vegas. I thought it was for my birthday but I think that's just how Vegas rolls. Anyway, I didn't even pack my beloved running shoes - this event was no place for those puppies. Here's how my trip rolled.

(This is not for the faint of heart.)

#1 I SEE BETH. Yeah. We lovingly greet each other like two friends who haven't seen each other in years. Oh wait, we are. Never mind. No tongue though. We are in our groove within a matter of seconds.

#2 We go to a bar nearby that smells like feet when you first walk in. (Not mine because they don't. Remember the body function phobia?) The upstairs deck is way cool They spray you with water every few minutes. It's stinkin' hot.

#3 We head to Boulder for more drinks and a further traverse down Memory Lane. I laughed so hard my cheeks ached. I had no idea what was in store for me.

9:00 p.m. 'ish

I race in to see Beth's family - including their 3-legged rescue dog, Lucky and their never-been-seen-before-by-me house. Yeah. More fun.

10:30'ish

Bedtime for Clair. I'm pooped. East Coast time and all. Beth shows me to my quarters. I get the whole huge basement to myself which includes my own bathroom with a runnable faucet. Yeah, again. 'Night everybody.

6:30 a.m.

It's coffee-time in Colorado. Or so I thought. I saunter on up the stairs to a $#$%%$$ SHUT AND LOCKED door. The only thing I hear is effing-Lucky sniffing around on the other side. Tap, tap, tap I go. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I hear. Back down the steps I go.

6:40 to 7:00

I exit my cell from the sliding glass doors down below IN MY PAJAMAS (did I tell you they live on a golf course that is in use at a very early hour), careful not to shut it all the way. (I'm so smart.) Up the deck stairs I go. To nothing. Nada. Locked out again. Who is this person I call 'friend'?

7:00 to 7:15

DT's from no coffee. False hope of rescue.

7:15

I give up. I crawl back in bed. It's a good thing Beth gave me a book for my birthday (Thank you) because the sorry ass book collection in my cell did not turn me on. I should, however, bone up on C. S. Lewis, The New Testament and Dickens. At least I know it. Lucky's effing limp on the kitchen floor is really on my nerves now. Must be nice.

7:45

I hear Beth in the kitchen. Now I'm embarrassed. Up the stairs I go to try again. Tap, tap tap I go. Laugh, laugh, laugh I hear. Sick. 'Oh, my God.' (laugh, laugh, laugh) 'Did I lock you out?' (laugh, laugh, laugh) 'Holy Shit. (She cusses.) 'I can't believe this.' (laugh, laugh, laugh). 'I have got to call Ken.' Sick 'Holy Shit'. (More cussing).

7:46

I'm out. More Colorado Fun.
Oh, and here are my older two children playing. I secretly liked this. Sick.

Ever been held captive? What's your story? Keep it clean.