Today Bosley and I attended our second tennis lesson. Bosley arrived before I did (as usual because of my 1 ½ hour commute.) She walked in the courts and immediately a man screamed at her to close the door. As she walked by, a tennis ball rolled at her feet. Its owner said, “Thank you.” Assuming Bosley would get the ball. When she did not, he said, “Can you get the ball, missy?” She said “Oh, sorry?” He then responded rudely with, “I guess you are too young to be missy, lady.” I came soon after. The doors were shut and I had to walk around like some commoner. Bosley dumped her partner for moi , but then again who wouldn’t. We watched the commoners play “King of the Court”, when a ball flew high over the head of Boy in the ridiculously long sleeved shirt for a hot New York summer day, so he jumped, tripped over his feet resembling an imbecile. Can we say faux-pas? This amused us to the fullest extent. Soon after an injustice occurred. We were (dare I say it?) CUT (in line.)
As you can see, our sojourn to the land of tennis courts had adverse affects on our mental health and well being, needless to say, we're never going back. The rest of this historical encounter is lost forever, as this is where the napkin ends.
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