Here's a little peek into my thought process on an all-too-common Tuesday during dart season.
— • — • —
7:20 am — Drag yourself out of bed after slapping the snooze button one too many times. "Ugh, I don't wanna go to work today. Ohhh shit, I have darts tonight, too! I'm starting to get tired of league. Maybe I won't go. Who can I get to shoot for me?"
9:09 am — "OK, fine. So I'll go and shoot, have a couple sodas, leave right after the last game, and I can be home by 9:00. Maybe I'll get a movie or something and watch that."
10:37 am — "Man, this morning is going slow. Isn't it lunch time yet? After work today, I should really run over to...oh, wait. Nope. Can't do that. Gotta go shoot darts."
12:44 pm — "Hah! Morning's over. Allll this work to do, though. Damn, I could really use a beer. OK, so if I have a couple beers during league, that's fine. Relax a little, shoot some good darts and get out of there at a decent hour."
1:39 pm — "Gregg, you're running out of weeks this year, and you don't have a sixer yet, you know. Tommy just got one last week, are you gonna let him stay ahead of you all season? Gotta get one. Shoot 'em good tonight."
3:27 pm — "I wonder how far ahead of the rest of the league I am in tons. I haven't seen a stat sheet in weeks. Last week was kind of a below-average night, better make up for it tonight. Hit that middle."
5:59 pm — "Nope, can't stay later tonight at work, I've gotta get to league. We're shooting the second-best team, and I need to get there early to warm up a little. My team needs me, and I need to get some good stats, and a bunch of wins."
6:45 pm (driving to the bar) — "Hit your sixer tonight, Gregg. Shoot 'em straight, shoot 'em hard. Hit your sixer, hit your sixer, hit your sixer, hit your sixer."
7:06 pm — Orders a beer even before taking jacket off. "Mmm, that's good. I've been looking forward to that since lunch! Just a couple beers, though. And don't hang around all night after league, either. Make this an early night, remember?"
8:42 pm — "Wow, three hat tricks tonight, and nine tons! Glad I came out to shoot. Didn't get my sixer, but I'm sure that'll come one of these weeks. For now, I really better get goi..." (out loud) "Hey, you guys wanna shoot a few games for money?"
10:41 pm — Several games of darts later, with a few extra dollars in the pocket, you start an 18-minute, spirited discussion about the final score of Super Bowl XXI (no one can remember). This is immediately followed by a 22-minute debate on why Barry Sanders was a better running back than Emmitt Smith or Walter Payton. Or Jim Brown, for that matter.
11:23 pm — "Man, I could really go for some chicken wings." (out loud) "Who wants wings??"
12:46 am — One dozen hot wings and a Pabst Blue Ribbon later (hey, PBRs are only a buck on Tuesday, how can you go wrong??), you realize how late it's gotten.
12:54 am — "Ugh. Next week I'm definitely not staying out this late. In fact, maybe I won't go. Who can I get to shoot for me?"
— • — • —
I'm pretty persuasive toward myself to change my mind, aren't I? Yeah, like it takes a lot of arm-twisting to get me to stay out and shoot cash games or go eat hot wings.
"Late to bed and late to wake
will keep you long on money
and short on mistakes."