Tennis Camp 2: Hit me baby one more time

I was shy when I was younger. I gather that may be a little bit hard to believe at this point, but it’s true. My sorority pledge name freshman year of college was “Phantom of the Opera” because basically all anyone knew about me was that I sang. I never spoke and I never caused any trouble. Oh how far we’ve fallen. These days, it seems I have inadvertently blasted open the dam between my brain and my mouth and let the floodwaters of things I probably should have thought in my head but not said out loud... Flow. Sometimes I get myself into trouble, sometimes it’s funny... But always, it’s remotely entertaining. More so when Trouble 1 (that’s me), is accompanied by Trouble 2 (my Tennis Camp better half, Meredith “Merbear, Carebear, Naughty Bear”) and the rest of the usual suspects, LeeAnn, Dirk, Rita, and Mayor Vic. As was evident all over again this past weekend when we stormed into Saugerties, NY (well fine maybe crawled would be the correct term for Meredith and I, since I was driving and not allowed to go faster than 55 mph lest receive another speeding ticket and have my license confiscated) to take over Total Tennis with our sparkling personalities and jewels. So without further ado, I present to you, some of my favorite “Tennis Camp 2: The Reunion Special” memories...

Dude, have you seen my room?

After pulling into the parking lot and laughing about how upon our first arrival Labor Day weekend we wandered around lost and aimless, like John McCain at a town hall debate, looking for the office, this time we proudly headed straight there (since we knew where it was already, or because there happened to be two huge signs). Please, I spent 4 days here a couple of months ago, I know this place like the back of my hand... Do we know where our room, 41, is?, the lady asks, YEP of course we do! So we schlep all of our stuff toward the vicinity of where I’ve determined our room should be (keep in mind I couldn’t find our room last time either), I climb up the stairs, see room 45, and hang a right. 44, 43, 42... Uh??? Ok maybe it’s not up here, it must be that little cabin next to 42. Back down the hill we go, with Meredith insisting on accidentally dropping all of the things that are stuffed into her hands, every 10 seconds. We are literally causing a scene with our incessant dropping and subsequent cracking up, when we learn that the cabin definitely has a letter D on it (clearly not 41), and inside resides one of the cooks who is now staring out the window secretly fitting us for straightjackets. We eventually found room 41, which was apparently located somewhere in the universe between AREA 51, and Cook’s Cabin D, after Meredith dropped her stuff a couple more times and I took two more steps to the right of room 42.

Not so silent Jessica and Bob J.

Labor Day weekend, we spent our entire time with our Pro Vic. We were completely spoiled. As much as he tries to lie about it, we are the most awesome group he’s ever had and it doesn’t work any other way but “Mayor Vic and The Viclets”... with sometime special guest appearances by Guillermo. However, on Saturday it poured. Not like a drizzle or shower, more like a monsoon, causing us to play on the indoor courts which happen to come in the not so accommodating quantity of 5. In the morning, our group was paired with another group who’s Pro’s name was Bubleau (totally butchered the spelling of that, I think I just tried to make him French), but I called him Boobie. In the afternoon, we were stuck with yet another group and Bob J., who after Vic introduced our group to, said that he would let his group introduce themselves, prompting Ms. No Filter over here to blurt out “oh why, don’t you know their names?” Which he didn’t. Yep, I make friends wherever I go.

The great indoors

But we did make friends. Our Total Tennis posse grew to include Lauren and Daniel who witnessed our complete debauchery more than once and still like us (I think?). Friday night, at Vic’s weekend indoor tennis “party”... We decided to show up and bring a little life to it. If you define party as stolen cream puffs from the kitchen and experiments in the art of walking on people’s back massages. Vic, who was supposed to be watching people play, was instead on the floor with me walking all over him (in the quite literal sense). When a group of ladies went to leave, Vic said, “you had some great shots guys”... Prompting Meredith to point out the obvious after they were gone, “You weren’t watching them, you were on the floor...”

Dirty “Dancing”

And of course, no weekend at tennis camp would be complete without a dance party in the barn. Whatever composure we had attempted to keep the first time around (that would be none for me and my pole dancing), we willingly lost this time. There was drunken indoor tennis with Lauren, followed by drunken dancing to some song about a tractor, drunken foosball, drunken pool, drunken dropping my drink on the floor, drunken feeding Vic pretzels like we were at a petting zoo, and the inevitable being completely hung over. Saturday night was so much fun in fact, that it couldn’t have been more obvious judging by both of our first words Sunday morning. Mine were... “must have coffee and BACON”, Meredith’s were “I don’t think I brushed my teeth last night... (how do you know?), the taste of wine, cigarettes and half a bag of cheesey curls that is still in my mouth”

Can we go back next weekend????? :-(