The one about the horse

I promised long ago to tell you about and experience I had when I went to see a man about a horse. On August 9th, the day after the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics, I got a hankering to get a horse. It was a whim . . . I was sitting in the office on a Saturday getting ready for the RAs, who were coming in Sunday, when it hit me that I really wanted a horse. So I told my fellow indentured servants, Jodi and Susan, who were also laboring on their "off" day, that I really wanted to go get a horse. Susan knew just the place. She had gone with her friends to get horses there and they all had been satisfied with theirs.

I called the number I found online and the receptionist told me they'd be there and that I didn't need an appointment . . . So we drove to Birmingham. When we pulled up a woman was coming out the front door in a tizzy. She said that they were closing and she was going downtown to get a horse and wouldn't be back to this place. They're real nice downtown, she said. We went in anyway. The receptionist with whom I spoke told us everyone was sick or going home and gave us all coupons for $20 off our next purchase, but only if you see a guy named Jeff about the horse. Dejected yet slightly relieved, I drowned my sorrows in the purchase of a $1 Wal-mart greeter vest at the Alabama Thrift Store. Nothing turns around a crappy day like a big ol' smiley face plastered on a blue vest. It's one of those gifts that keeps on giving . . . I even have some stickers to pass out when I wear it so I can give that same feeling to the folks I see every day.

RAs came, then volleyball and soccer players, and my week passed and I thought I'd never get a horse. When Saturday rolled around and we needed to escape before the freshmen moved in, I convinced my pals to go with me to see a man about a horse again. Susan needed supplies for helping the fine folks of Marion during Marion Matters and I needed to pick up t-shirts, so we combined it with a trip to Home Depot and loaded the school van with paint and school supplies and t-shirts. We ate a celebratory meal and headed once again to see Jeff. He was there, gave me a quote, I paid, Jeff left.

I waited 2.5 hours while watching WWF wrestling, which alone could be used to torture folks. Jeff never came back. I asked, not so nicely, if I could come back. The same receptionist, this time clad in a well-worn pair of bluejean underwear, made an appointment for me and guaranteed Jeff would be there.

On August 26th I went back, told the guy at the desk I had an appointment, and 3 people came in and got horses in the hour we waited there. The third was quite an interesting character who obviously had some serious issues. She wanted to somehow replace the horse her ex had given her and she said it was going to take an hour. I asked Jeff, the equine specialist, how long the third would take and he got petulant with me and told me I had time to go eat. By this point I wanted to throw in the towel. It just wasn't meant for me to have a horse. I wanted to leave the place and never go back. After a few moments of unabashed rage in the parking lot, Jodi convinced me that we should come back after we ate. I was in no rush, Jeff could wait on me now. So we also went to Home Depot for more paint (I think they put the dumbest employees at the paint counter. I've gone there for paint three times in the past three months and have been treated like an idiot, ignored, and saw the paint guy waste four cans of paint because he didn't put it in the right place under the magic color machine.)

Jeff called me while we were in Home Depot dealing with the paint-splattered charlatans and started apologizing profusely. Said he didn’t know I was an appointment. Said to come back. So I went back (4th time, technically). He didn’t have on record that I had paid that little trick in bluejean underwear for my horse. After explaining about a million different ways that I had been there before, had seen the guy at the front desk during the WWF freakout visit, had paid, had waited 20 minutes (why else would he have my number if I hadn't been there before?), he offered me $20 back and told me to sit down. That little scheister with the blujean underwear had pocketed my money! So the money to pay for my horse was garnished from her last paycheck (he had fired her the week before).

I left only slightly more colorful than I went in . . . and I haven't regretted the horse at all, but right now I don't want to get another. I'm content with the perpetual challenge of hiding this one from my mother.

This may or may not be a picture of what my perfect horse would have looked like. While mine didn't turn out quite perfect, neither are my memories of China. Yet they will forever remain close to my heart. Th-th-that that don't kill me (oh) can only make me stronger . . . -Kanye West