A post about nothing.

Let’s take a break from reliving 2014 and fast-forward to last week. On Friday, I sat down to write a post about irony. My day-to-day life has been riddled with irony for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure if it’s just me or if I just notice the irony in situations more than others but serendipity seems to find it’s way into my life often, as if Larry David himself was writing the story of my life. Most of the time, the situation is so silly, no one would believe me if I told them, but a couple of random things happened this month, and I felt like sharing anyway.  

I returned to Orlando from Aspen, CO late on New Years Eve, and rang in 2015 sound asleep in my bed. On New Years Day, Tiff, Steve, and our friend Heather cruised down the street to the Citrus Bowl to join our fellow Gophers watch Minnesota take on Missou. Even though we had phenomenal seats in the 8th row on the 50 yd line, we somehow we ended up on the field for the entire second half, but that’s another story. Anyhow, I was beat from my Aspen escapade, so that evening as the gameday bowl party rolled on, I headed home and then made my way to the gym or a late evening session. As you can imagine, the gym was fairly quiet at around 9 o’clock on New Years Day, it was only me and 3-4 other people in the main cardio room. I was on a Stairmaster climbing to heaven, when something caught my eye. I looked to my right and there was a tall kid, prob 18-19 years old, lying awkwardly on the floor next to me with a dazed and confused look on his face. In a split second, I looked up to the front desk, which was only 30 feet from where he lay. The guy working didn’t move a pinky. I jumped down off of the machine and quickly asked, “Did you just pass out? Are you okay?” The boy, very confused, replied, “Yeah……I think I was trying to get to the bathroom.”

I propped his 6 foot 4 inch frame up on mine and walked him to a chair near the front desk area. Glaring harshly at the guy behind the desk, I said, “Umm HELLO can we get a water or a Gatorade for this guy?!!” Annoyed, he said yes and leisurely grabbed a Gatorade, completely unconcerned with what was happening. The kid’s name was Brendan, and as he regained his brainpower he said, “I was sitting here and yelling at the guy at the front desk for help. I needed water. He did nothing. That’s when I got up to go to the locker room.”

Just then the desk man brought the Gatorade and returned to his perch, where he continued to take selfies, seriously, and didn’t move an eye from his phone to check on us, or anything else happening in the gym, for that matter. Needless to say, I was infuriated. It is absolutely sickening and deeply saddening to witness our human race completely lose respect and care for each other. We are SO  worried about our social media fame, knowing what other people are doing, and/or caring about how we're being perceived, to take a step back and care for each other. It’s upsetting.

After admitting to me that he’d been partying the night before, I gave Brendan a brief lecture on dehydration and the science behind water and electrolytes. For the next 30 minutes, I completed my workout and periodically came back to check on him. When I was ready to leave I asked where he lived. “Just down the road on Michigan Street,” he informed me. After minutes of banter, demanding to let me take him home, he wouldn’t accept the offer, and newly hydrated Brendan drove home. Having had enough excitement for one day, I headed home as well.

Halfway home, I saw a large dog running back and forth across Michigan St. Worried for his safety, I wanted to see if he had a collar and return him to his home. I parked three different times and coaxed him for a half hour before he came to me. No collar. Long story short, I brought the dog home, and Rod Stewart, our Jack Russell, had a new, large, friend, “Ritchie Cunningham”, for the night.

That night I posted on Craigslist, Facebook, and multiple local and national lost dog websites in hopes his owner would emerge. Nothing. The next day, Tiff and I went into the SPCA to see if the dog was chipped – he was! We were so excited, until an hour passed and the vets still couldn’t track down the owner; although he was chipped, the owner had failed to register any of their information on the account. There was obviously no way we were going to leave Ritchie Cunningham at the pound, so we brought him home and advertised him to our dog friendly Facebook friends. Near the end of the day, our big-hearted neighbor, Kyle, took him. Ritchie had found a home.  

Two days later I got a call from the SPCA. They’d tracked down the owner who then called me to get my information to come pick up the dog. I was pissed. Though fired up, I calmly lectured this person. “So, your dog was missing for three days, and you didn’t post a Craigslist ad? Or check with the SPCA? He was running wild on West Michigan Street!” “Well I live on East Michigan, so he’d only went a couple miles then. I mean he has a chip.” he responded. I wanted to punch him through the phone. “Okay, well you can come get him, but I don’t want to give this dog back to you unless you’re going to take care of him. Having a dog is a responsibility.” He, unemotionally said “Yeah, whatever” and I grudgingly gave him my neighbor Kyle’s address to pick the dog up. Just before hanging up, I asked him, “What’s your name?” “Brendan,” he said.

I couldn’t believe it.

Orlando’s population is upward of 250,000. I’d never seen this kid before at the gym, he passes out, and I get him home. Driving home I find a dog 3 miles away on Michigan St and for some reason take him in. Find owner. Owner is Brendan from East Michigan Street. The irony was unbearable.

Here's where it gets out of control: As I sat down to write this post, I was looking through my most recent writing folder on my month old Macbook Air and thought to myself, “Why don’t I have these files backed up? I can’t imagine losing them if anything happened to my computer! All of that brain power down the drain.” So, I immediately backed up the files via Dropbox, and as I did so, made a swift gesture reaching for one of my handwritten notes when I knocked my entire mug of freshly brewed coffee onto the keyboard of my laptop.  Mug FULL of coffee directly INTO my brand new $1,000 Macbook Pro. It was too ridiculous for me to even get mad.

Despite hours of effort to drain, dry, and revive my laptop, it is done for (that’s “donzo” for you Millennials). When I went in to the Apple store, the worker confirmed my fate as the first thing he said to me after I showed him the computer was, “Mmmm, smells good -  French vanilla? 

It was Hazelnut, but thanks.

So, one thousand dollars later, I’m writing from my old slow laptop risking explosion, and after all that, there’s not even any real point to this post; I wrote it mostly for amusement. However I will leave you with this closing note: Please take responsibility for and care for your belongings, your dog, your computer, the people around you, and yourself. From Brendan to the guy at the gym front desk, both were irresponsible and disrespectful not only of others, or their dogs, but of themselves. We’ve all got things to work on; Let’s start ironing out the wrinkles. Now.