Well, I’ve just returned from a morning at the pig races.
Despite the clumps of snow and three layers of calcium build-up on my car, I dressed for the occasion in an outfit probably more suited for a fashion forward office than a grade school. I’m delusional to think I can keep my feet warm in heels and the hem of my pants dry; however, I have a hard time going into school looking like I’m chopping wood. Now I can go to Wal-Mart with rats living in my hair, but I could not go to the library without at least a bit of make-up and descent outfit. Maybe I’m afraid the women with glasses perched on the tips of their noses will give me a detention or something. I have yet to sort out some of my quirks. I only know that schools and libraries alike require proper speech, ironed clothes, and ‘fixed’ hair, whatever that means.
As much as school makes me primp and squirm, I find myself sitting at desks that I outgrew in the seventh grade more often than I’d like; however, today I enjoyed a special treat. I’m no novice when it comes to pig races. This is my second race in the last six months with my first being about a year ago.
I’ll refrain from name dropping, but some of you think you have the corner market on Redneck. I’m here to tell you that you underestimate a New Yorker.
Four pigs squealed their way across a sheet of corrugated aluminum roofing sending the entire crowd of teachers, administrators, and parents into a curly tailed frenzy. When the moderator announced the tie-dyed pig would fill in for pinky, the double race winner, there was a moment when the hushed, almost reverential whisper of “tie-dyed” rode a wave through the auditorium. Even the camo pig slumped slightly.
Anxious piglets lined up at the broom handle, known to some as the starting line, and scurried as fast as their battery operated legs allowed. The children’s cheers grew until the walls pulsated with applause. Little hearts raced faster than pigs fly and finally a winner emerged. The other’s shamed their colors, running them into the mud.
The morning’s excitement could only be satiated with a BLT, straight from the cafeteria and a Swine Flu H1N1 shot.