Letters from Kamp Krusty

I Did Not Find Pants in Bangkok, by Brant Hansen

I visited Bangkok recently.  It is a neat city.

We had a "layover".  We wanted to see the King's Palace!  It was one (1) hour from the airport.  We knew it would take one (1) hour to get back.  That gave us a total of one (1) hour to spend touring the King's Palace in Bangkok.  That's not much time!

We hurried!  We took a REALLY fast taxi!   We got there.  It was hot.  We were told we could not wear shorts into the palace.  We were told we could rent pants at "that building over there."

We went to that building over there.  They did not have pants for rent.  They sent us to some another place for pant rental.  That place was not a pant rental place, also.  They sent us to another place for pant rental.  That place was not a pant rental place, also.  They sent us to another place for pant rental.  That place was not a pant rental place, also.

We got frantic.  We started asking people on the street where we could find pants.  We had to say, "Pants?  Rental Pants?" slowly.  In Thailand, they speak Thai.  So we talked louder.

We ran around.  We wanted pants and yelled for them.  People pointed in different directions. 

I went to Bangkok.  I ran around yelling about Rental Pants and did not find them and then went back to Florida.

It's a World of Fantasy, this "Fantasy Football"

I like Fantasy Football!  It's an escape from reality!

In real life, my Dolphins lost, and my favorite baseball team lost.  But forget all that:  Because of Fantasy Football, I got to come in to work, on an otherwise depressing Monday morning, check on my three Fantasy leagues, and see that I also lost in all of them, too!

In reality, I'm a loser, sure.  But in my fantasy-world?  I'm a loser, sure.

It's neat, because when my fave sports teams lose, it's them losing.  I didn't get to have a hand in it.  But when I lose in Fantasy Football, it's because of me, personally.  I, personally, didn't measure up, not just some overpaid celebrity.

Oh yes, I've lost a lot in my time.   But that's in the boring realm of reality.  Now, I'm a loser in fantastical cyber-worlds, worlds that only exist in theory.  If I can dream it, I can lose in it. 

Best, the time commitment is limited.  It takes only a few minutes each week to A) find the players on my team who are going to have great games, and then B) put them on the bench before Sunday comes around.  This week, I simultaneously lost to a far-flung friend, a radio colleague across the peninsula, and one of my best friends who lives just a mile away.

Fantasy!

Losing:  Anytime, Anywhere.

I recently lost a checkers game to a Kenyan Boy Scout.  I was ahead, then choked at the end.  Someone coughed and distracted me.  The little guy spoke only Swahili, but his riotous laughter, following a double-king-jump, needed no translation.

While in Nairobi, I lost a chess game to a talk radio host from Detroit (Bob, above) who took a half-hour between moves.  I got drowsy.

I also just lost my first ever Jump-Rope-Off to a cocky, eight year old, pigtailed, "Ooh,-aren't-I-great?" little gal named Stacey.  I didn't need the crowd of a hundred or so chanting "Stace-ee, Stace-ee..."  I could have done without that.  Maybe a regulation-length rope might have helped me? 

(Family/friends:  You can see this on the video above.  It's 5 minutes.  Apologies to Nickel Creek. I am gratified that I was able, during keep-a-way, to introduce the kids to the moves of one Barry Sanders.)

I started my Global Futility program years ago, when I was kicked in the face by a soccer ball traveling at 100+ mph.  I still remember the Mexican sun framing the silhouette of the six year-old offender, looking down at me as I lay in the dust. 

I've lost at cricket, to amused little Indian kids, in the slums of Calcutta.  I've lost my boots -- a bet from a chess match -- to a tsunami survivor alongside the Indian ocean in Banda Aceh.  To a little boy named Kanaan, I lost a game of Hide-n-Seek amid the cloisters of St. Thomas Church on the sands along the Bay of Bengal, in Madras.  (They say Thomas is buried there, but I doubt it.)

In all this, of course, I'm very, very thankful that God has allowed me to see these places, and meet these people.   

And I did win once. sort of:  I kicked some Karaoke rear in Singapore.  First/last karaoke experience.  I ruled that place. 

There's a Chinese word for "Karaoke Winner", though.  Roughly translated:  Loser.