And now for something completely different

(The following is a story by my sister, Mary. She's my favorite.)

I went to Lafayette, Louisiana and all I got was this lousy black eye.

It started out innocently enough; a long weekend with friends filled with good times, some tennis and a slumber party at a fishing camp. What more could a girl ask for?

The original plan was to fly down to join my former tennis comrades and good friends for a weekend tennis tournament. Well, once the entry fee came to light, $100 per entrant, we all decided unless that tournament t-shirt could bring us to orgasm when we wore it, there was no way any of us wanted to pay that kind of money. So my girlfriends had planned their own tournament of sorts which involved games of tennis each day with whoever wanted to play. Friday we had a slumber party at a fishing cabin that one of the friends was renting while waiting for her house to be rebuilt. Sure, alcohol and fishing poles were involved, a couple of them even ended up being cast into the lake in fact, but that’s not where I got my black eye. No, that didn’t happen until the day before I had to fly home.

We had scheduled a doubles match for Sunday morning, which came in overcast and humid, well this is Louisiana after all. Everything was going along fine, my partner and I were ahead in the match by a couple of games. Couldn’t tell you the score of the game that we were playing at the time when the miscue happened. I was in the back court trying to get my racket on a high bouncing ball, one minute I had it in my sights and swung at the ball and the next minute I can truly say I saw stars. My racket, after making contact with the ball, which I swear was five feet over my head, came out of my hand and was met on the way down by my left orbital socket. No cries for “momma!” or “medic!” was issued from my lips, I was too busy scrambling for my glasses (can’t see shit without them) and putting my baseball cap back on my head. We had a game to play! By the time I’d put myself back together all play had stopped on the court.

“Did we win the point?” I asked my partner, trying to act nonchalant about beaning myself with my own racket.

“Uh, no, we lost it.”

“What?! Oh, maaan,” I whined, “it would’ve made a much better story if we’d at least won the point.”

“What happened?”

“I think I just gave myself a black eye,” I responded, already I could feel the area over my left eyelid swelling.

Karen, my teammate, took a closer look, “Oh wow, I can see what part of the racket hit ya, it left a mark.”

That’s just great, I thought, Jim will never believe this. I mean, one would expect a black eye coming out of Philadelphia, but Lafayette, LA? All that southern hospitality? Please.

After different scenarios were discussed among the players on the court to explain the black eye, like getting into a fight with Bill, Karen’s husband over the point; or a head on collision going after a ball was another. We all decided to consider it a “lagniappe” from the trip, which in Cajun country is something that is thrown in for free.

I did contemplate applying makeup to the other eye to make the blooming color scheme on the one eye less noticeable, except I don’t carry makeup. So I met Jim at the airport braced for an explosive welcome once the offending eye had been spotted.

Apparently, the lighting at the baggage claim is very flattering because Jim didn’t notice a thing, even after giving me a kiss and a hug. It wasn’t until we stopped for something to eat on the way home at a Taco Hell that things got a bit prickly. If you want to be seen in a bad light, go to Taco Bell, it definitely doesn’t show your best side.

Once we had ordered and taken a seat at one of the tables, Jim is spreading out his meal, I’m congratulating myself on dodging a bullet, and the next thing I hear is, “What the hell happened to your eye?” Damn. So I tell him. He was trying to control his laughter by holding it in during the explanation. His shoulders were shaking so much I thought he might fall off his chair. Shaking his head, with a big smile on his face, “Jesus, Mary” was all he said.

I must admit, it’s a gift.