Good Form Sir

After a forty-five minute delay, I could finally get up and leave the room. I applauded the performance, as a good audience should, and made my way to the couch with Tiger and Jose.

This makes no sense to you. I should probably start at the beginning.

Friday started as most people's Fridays do - dreading work. It wasn't because I went out the night prior; it was because I didn't go out. If I'd gone out I might have slept, dumb and numb, through the night. Instead I stayed in, and was awoken at 2:30 am to the lovely sight of DC's guest from the States (DC and I share a room - remember this because it comes into play later) leaning over the side of his twin size mattress, vomiting into a garbage bin. Immediately, my chivalrous instincts kick in. "Are you okay?" I ask, "Can I get you anything? What can I do?" DC, laying awake and motionless next to his guest, replies, "I could use a water."

I got that water, but I brought it for the girl. DC was asleep when I got back, and she had no recollection of the any of this come morning, including puking. I couldn't fall asleep for another two hours.

The other reason I was dreading work Friday morning was because the rest of the crew got to go on this complimentary sailboat racing trip and I was privileged enough to hold down the fort. Its all good because I'll get my chance to go when someone else has to work, but it goes without saying I wasn't ripe with anticipation when Kiersten came in rocking photos from the excursion.

My shift ends and I can pull together my to-do list for the afternoon: 1.) beach with DC and Kristen, 2.) pick Justin up from the St. Croix seaplane with DC and Kristen, 3.) shop for family meal Friday with DC and Kristen. The thing about number two on that list was that we had no idea when Justin was getting in, so everything else was determined by the timing of that.

We get to Sapphire Beach and find a few beach chairs in the quickly fading sun. Ten minutes later we get a call saying Justin was landing. This was not enough time to get a suntan (read: burn my French-Canadian skin), but it was enough time to have an iguana meander by in a somewhat close range so that we could see Kristen's irrational and unprovoked fear of all things lizard on full display. Its pretty hilarious to see someone scared of a creature that would prefer not moving to moving, and whose m.o. in life is to eat bugs and leaves.

Fast forward through picking up Justin and dropping him off at his house. Now its time to get serious about family meal Fridays. The featured menu item this week (as selected by the anti-domesticated Kiersten because Beth has to work) is pre-made, oven bake pizzas. Price Smart was the name of the game as it is the island's mass merchandising center and it offers insane pricing. For example, I got a liter of Jose Cuervo for $13.49 (remember this because it also comes into play later). We got the rest of our supplies and made our way home.

Night rolls around and everyone arrives hungry. Time for Kiersten to shine - and shine she did. A more appropriate name for Kiersten when she is in the kitchen is "Special K" because she is definitely a special breed of chef. There are few scarier sights than Kiersten with two spatulas in hand about to open the oven. Five minutes into BAKING PIZZAS, one was upside down with its ingredients burning on the bottom of the stove. With some adjustments and help from her sous-chef Greg, everything turned out fantastic and the entire crew was full. The normal celebratory transgressions took place - DVD power hour, flip cup, arguing over flip cup, dance-off challenges that are pushed to a later date and on this particular Friday, a rubber band fight. I wasn't even involved, yet managed to get sniped out in the neck mid sip forcing a spit-take. Thanks DC.

Then night stumbles towards its demise as people have to choose between bed and Sib's. I chose bed. DC and Kristen chose bed. The rest of the party chose Sib's.

I was woken later in the night (I have no idea what time it was because the clock is on the far side of DC's bed and I was not going to look for reasons disclosed shortly). For the second night in a row, it was to Kristen making all sorts of noise from across the room. The first night the noises were hurls and spews of bile. The second night they were noises of an entirely different variety. Knowing full well that sometimes this is how the game is played when you share a room, I laid silent - pretending I was asleep - deciding I could wait them out.

Forty five minutes later, it was clear the deed was done (DC was rolling the bed, which is on wheels, back into its place in the corner of the room). Never one to let an excellent performance go unnoticed, I stood up, gave them a slow clap, exclaimed, "Bravissimo!", and made my way to the couch. Poised precariously on the coffee table to my front was a bottle of Jose Cuervo - the same bottle that I had purchased at a discounted rate earlier that day. It seemed to be staring at me, as if to say, "Good form, old friend. Have a drink of me on the house."

As I woke up this morning (and yes technically it was still morning for another ten minutes), I discovered that I accepted Jose's offer and that there were no parameters set in regard to the size of the drink. Half of the bottle was gone, and I was on the twelfth tee at TPC Sawgrass, on the last day of a four day tournament in Tiger Woods 2009. I was sixty two (yes 62) strokes under par. Somehow I even managed to shoot a 51. I cannot explain this.