Tonight was the Pewter Plunger Challenge in the youth group at church. As our daughter is part of the youth group, and we also have a van, we were asked to drive. The event was similar to The Great Race. You know, the TV show? They were taking the church van for one group, and needed a second vehicle for the other group. Sam and I got roped into being that other group.
Becky invited a friend who we picked up and took with along the way. Since it was just the 4 of us we decided to call it a date and ate out. (When you're old like us, it's a date when you're just down a few kids.) We were a tad bit crunched for time so we headed to a butt-fey and gorged ourselves before heading to the church. We were just sitting in the van schlepping kids around, so we had all night to digest. We were good to go.
Except we weren't. The event was not well attended by the youth. All the leaders showed up, however. There were 6 adults and 3 kids. We decided to split into groups anyway, Sam and I being half of our group. The race was on. The Parents against The Daughter and Friend. BRING IT!
We were given a clue at the church, which sent us to Starbucks. SCORE! Only I was too full to get anything to sip while racing away. Plus the whole HURRY thing we had going. There? We had to chug a shot of espresso. Dude, that stuff is all kinds of bitter-nasty. How do people do that?! Kudos to The Daughter for downing hers without ralphing it right back up. I almost did, and I'm the coffee drinker in the family.
From there it was the high school football field. I found the first clue and our group high-tailed it back to the van. But darn that childbirth thing that made my already genetically hindered bladder even more weak! I have zero control when I have to run. Thankfully the wet wasn't noticeable to the general public, but boy-howdy was it uncomfortable the rest of the night.
We raced to Family Dollar, and uptown to the Diamond, and out to Wal-Mart where we were so far in the lead that I had time to stop for a potty break. Out to the Lake to look for a clue at the levy. That's where things fell apart for us. I saw the boys weren't having luck at their spot so I headed down the road to see what I could see. Being dark, it was very little. And being as I was dressed in dark clothing with no flashlight, they didn't see me either. So when they found the clue they were stuck looking for me. The Daughter's team found their clue and drove on. Once we finally reconnected we made tracks and caught them at Domino's Pizza.
At Domino's, the staff there was privy to our game. They had a large pizza and a 2-liter per team waiting for us. When we brough back the empty box and bottle, we got a clue. So you remember that we gorged ourselves at the stupid all-you-can-eat hog trough? Yeh. Try downing a large pizza and fizzle when you've got no room to put it. And try not barfing it right back up right there in the parking lot. Sam is just lucky he didn't marry a lady or we'd still be there waiting for me to nibble my way delicately around the pepperoni. Being as our team was all men but me, we made good time and pulled out of there shortly after the girls.
We had one more stop before someone claimed the Pewter Plunger as their very own, and The Daughter's team beat us there. We tried blocking them in the drive but their driver was a mad woman at this point and seemed oblivious to the fact that we were mere millimeters from her van. (She was driving a 15-passenger so if size matters, she had us beat.)
The last clue sent us to the site of The Plunger, and to get there we headed down the 4-lane. One advantage a mini van has over a full size is speed. Who says soccer moms can't get the lead out? We managed to pass them, but they snuck by us on the off ramp and beat us to the end of the road, thereby claiming the Pewter Plunger as their own.
Beat by our own daughter. And she's loving every minute of it. So are we, but don't tell her. When you can have fun with your kids - and her friend thanked us a bajillion times over - you know it was a successful night.
But you know you're really too old to hang with the youth when you barely get home before the overloaded digestive tract decides to make itself heard. Between that and the loss of bladder control on the football field, I'm now down a pair of undies.
I guess next time I should stay on the porch. Apparently I'm not a big dog any more.