OTL and the Bus

I don’t know how many of you have heard of the Over The Line tournament held every year in San Diego. It is a pretty big production bringing literally hundreds of people from across and even out of the country. Old Mission Bay Athletic Club has sponsored this tourney for the past 53 years. You can read more about it at www.OMBAC.com if you are interested. Quick basics are that it is a 3-man team, 20 minute game, double elimination event. Field dimensions are different than a regular field (see website for more info). Lastly, the team name can be ANYTHING you want it to be, no matter how long, how wordy, how vulgar, or anything. For example, if I remember the team names correctly of my buddies, there was “Phoenix Beaver Eaters”, “IF you’ve Been To Phoenix, Chances Are We Fucked Your Relatives” or something like that. I think I messed up a word or two. Lastly, this year’s new team “Two in the Pink, One in the Stink”.

My buddies had been doing this OTL thing for about three years, or so, and each year they bring along a couple more friends that enjoy it, and continue going. Well, this year was my year to be initiated and decided I would go and check it out. It would be good to be where it is cooler than Phoenix, and drinking with 8 of my buddies for four days. This first year, I would not be playing unless a last minute accident and they needed me.

Before I get too far into the story, I probably need to explain few things to you. The OTL is held on an island (Fiesta Island, to be exact) that has only 1 exit/entrance. There is VERY limited RV parking, and this is the only time of year the island officials allow even more limited parking. No biggee – we were doing car pools anyways as we had all flown into San Diego. At the OTL there are a number of sponsor tents, and food tents, etc etc scattered around the edges of the playing fields. One particular tent is called the “Circle of Champions” and costs $35 per ticket to gain entrance. This ticket has to be bought prior to the OTL start date by mail. What you get once you are in though, is free food, and drink (alcoholic or other) for as long as they are open. There are also no running water restrooms on the island and Port-a-Potties are prevalent all around. So a brief recap:

1. “Circle Of Champions”
2. only One entrance/exit to the island
3. limited parking
4. port-a-potties all around

It’s Saturday morning and OTL begins in about an hour. We all load up in the Limo (yes Limo. Friend knew a connection and we got a nice discount to have him drop us off at the island). All of us cram in and away we go. We are conveniently dropped off at the gate to the OTL. Since I was the only one there not playing in any games, it was determined I would get a table at the “Circle of Champions” and reserve it throughout the day for the other guys as they had breaks between games and whatnot. Perfect! Sit and drink and eat as much as I want! Well, I had to wait about half an hour before they opened, and I strutted my way in the that fence enclosed structure, admiring the red band on my wrist that gave me reign to come and go from this most honored establishment. I quickly ordered up the requisite Bud and a Jack. Glancing around I saw many tables still available (as I was like the fourth person entering) and quickly headed for one in the back corner, no more than 15 feet from about 7 port-a-potties (for quicker and easier access). The table is only 20 feet from where the food will be brought out, and has a good umbrella shade to protect me from the sun. I see a waitress start heading my way.

“Here ya go Honey,“ I say with a smile as I give her a $20 bill. “You earn that and maybe more, if every time you come by me, you bring a Jack and Bud, for as long as I am sitting here.”

She smiles at me and says, “No problem. You ready for one now?”

“Matter of fact, yes, just bring it on out, even if I have little still in front of me.”

That was the start of a beautiful relationship of the day. I do not think I could have loved anyone else more than that waitress at that moment. So I am kicking back, listening to the announcer call out the names and field numbers for the teams to play. Every now and then there would be a good one, like, “We were going to hang your black ass until we found you was our daddy”, or “Owie, Owie, get it out it hurts”. I wish I would have gotten a program so I could be sure I wrote those team names right, plus so I could seen the ones I don’t remember hearing.

So things are going along well and time moves on. My buddies came and went, and the drinks kept going down. About 10:30 or so I think (I had only been in here since about 9) the first piece of bad news arrives via the waitress.

“We are out of Jack Daniels. Is there something else you would prefer?” I asked for my choices and there were not many. All the alcohol had to be carted out to the island, so there was a limit to how much could be there as well. I settled switching to Jim Beam, and proceeded to enjoy the day.

Throughout the morning, I had had my share of pretzels, and a little later on there was nachos with some pretty spicy salsa. Around noon the good food started coming out, and the “Circle of Champions” started to fill up quite well. There were all sorts of lunch meats for sandwiches. Real good stuff and the slices were nice and thick compared to most places. My buddies have all played at least their first game around this time, when I hear the news that someone has been injured and taken by ambulance tot the hospital. That’s too bad, this was such a beautiful day and things were going well. Then I find out, that guy is one of my buddies. Seems he got hit by a line drive or fell on the ball, but ended up hurting his ribs (final tally was three cracked ribs). Well, the rest of us knew he knew where we were staying, and would be able to call some of us if needed. That was one team out, two to go.

Around 1:00pm, we have a nice crowd filling in the Champions tent, and I am eyeballing every pretty woman that I could see. My waitress was doing a wonderful job until she came to tell me more bad news.

“They are now out of Jim Beam. Is there something else you would like?” Again I listened to my options, which were obviously a shorter list than last time. I decided on the scotch. If nothing else, I doubt very many people would be drinking it, and I may make it the rest of the day with out having to change again. Bud is still flowing mightily.

Things after that did not seem to bother me a bit. From what I remember, our other two teams ended up losing their second games and near 4pm we decided it was time to leave. I do not recall the exact number of guys there was in our group, my main concern was that I was never left alone somewhere I was not familiar with. Everyone in our group, plus many other people that were attending today, were shuffling and staggering (limping & staggering in my case) towards the main gate. At the main gate were two separate lines for the buses to take you off the island. Since I had been slower than the rest of our group, I was a bit behind, and stood there trying to figure what line am I supposed to be in, when I was hailed from my buddies. They were ahead in one line about 8-10 people ahead of me. Well, after maybe 15 minutes in line, a bus comes up and they begin boarding. Wouldn’t you know it, but the cut-off for the bus was right in front of me. I am standing there, all my buddies are on this bus (all of them I thought) and I am alone, having to wait for the next bus. I holler at them to be sure to wait for me when they get dropped off.

As the first bus pulls away, another is right behind it, so I am glad I won’t be but 5-10 minutes behind my buddies. I look over towards the end of the line and I see Joe, one of our group. I holler at him to get up here with me so we don’t get too separated. We load up the bus and it takes off. Everyone is feeling good after a day at the beach and OTL, and talking and whatnot.

After about a 10-15 minute ride (I think) the bus ends up pulling into this parking lot, in the middle of nowhere it seems. Everyone begins to get off, except me and Joe. About 5 minutes later, Joe, myself, three other guys we knew from Phoenix, and 2 others I didn’t know were still on the bus. Our bus driver was this short black woman that reminded me from the way she talked and looked like Nell Carter. She looks up in her bus driver mirror and says “Y’all gotta get offa my bus. This is the end of the line.”

Now, I had been drinking beer & whiskey, & scotch since about 9:15 in the morning, and it is around 4’ish in the afternoon. This woman made me sober so quickly with just that sentence. In the brief moment of silence, I looked at Joe, then looked out the window, and realized I had no clue as to where I was. There were no stores, buildings, nothing, but an overhead roadway. Again, the seven of us passengers all looked at one another as if to say “What do we do now?”

“Ma’am,” I say, being polite as I think I have ever been. “Isn’t this bus supposed to go over to Mission Bay Park?”

“No. You done got on the wrong bus if that was where you is supposed to be. This is my last stop” I can see her glaring at me in the mirror, and I began to fear. My chest began to tighten some, and that little voice in my head had dropped to the very back of my head saying ‘you’re so screwed’ that I almost began to believe him. Joe had started to get up to head out the door, and I reached out to grab his arm, having him pause what he was doing.

For those of you that know me, when I have been drinking for a time, my voice changes some. I start having a bit of a sort-of Southern drawl. I have been called Larry the Cable Guy on many occasions. Almost like Ray Stevens in that song “The Streak” – Yeah I did. Git R Done.

“Ma’am, is there some way that we can rectify this situation?” I heard this come from my mouth, sounding like a hick that had been educated at an Ivy League college. “Is it possible for you to at least drop us off at the island so that we may get in the right line for the bus we need?”

“No way am I doing that. This is my last stop and I am done for the day.” Man, I swear things can’t stack up against me any worse. My mind is still reeling about how I am going to get out of this place when I have no idea where I am at…..

“Ma’am, I am going to be honest with you. I am from out of state. I have no idea where we are right now. I do not have a cell phone with me to call for a cab, plus if I did, I don’t have any cab numbers with me. My friends were on the bus ahead of me, and we are supposed to meet at Mission Bay. What can we do to rectify this situation?”

There, I had laid it all out on the table. I am a simple person. I watched the bus driver, as she was studying my face in that wide bus mirror. The radio is playing in the background, but I couldn’t tell you what song, I only knew it was the only sound at that moment. She looks at her watch, looks back to me again. She raises her left hand and slaps it down on the steering wheel and lets out a laugh.

“Well, boy, it’s your lucky day! I guess I am going to get an hour’s more pay. I will take you on over to Mission Bay, but it gonna cost you.” My mental emergency brakes went on. I glanced around the bus real quick. Everyone is looking at everyone, not sure of what to do. I glance back to the mirror. “Someone gonna have to sing me a Commodore song on the way.” Again she lets loose with a big laugh.

I inwardly sigh – no problem. A song for the ride and I get to where I need to be. I start asking all the other guys. “Do you know a song by them? DO you? DO you?” All six guys tell me no, they have no idea of any Commodores song, let alone know one. I sighed. I only know one, so I let it loose and fill the bus with the sound of “You’re Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady” as the bus pulls out to the road. The bus driver is just smiling and singing along. I am not sure if I got all the verses in there, and I am not sure if all the words were correct, but after singing I made sure all the guys knew to be putting some money in her tip jar. I actually said to fill it up as it was about 2 inches from full. As we unloaded at Mission Bay, I was the last off, and placed a $5 bill over the now filled tip jar, and turned to the driver. “Thanks so much for helping me out.”

“Not a problem,” she said and gave me a hug.

I am happy. I am where I am supposed to be. Where is everyone else? A quick phone call found the other part of my group not knowing exactly where they were either, but they were bus-less. I told them basically that Joe & I were headed to Coaster’s, and they could meet us there, which they did within about 15-20 minutes.