Jim, as Jim will do, plotted all night at how to get within inches of his idol and come away with an autograph and perhaps a photo. It was a tough undertaking. Every other person in the room was formulating similar schemes. This was no time for niceness and "After you, sir's". This involved being one step ahead of the mob mentality. This involved strategy.
I call this one the "go out back, behind the building, and wait for Lance to come out with his entourage" strategy.
Wait.. that strategy actually has a longer name... more specifically, the "appeal to Lance's soft spot for cancer patients and say you've just had your cancer surgery yesterday and can I please have an autograph, Lance?" strategy.
hmm... further known as the "be totally okay with allowing him to think that, by 'cancer', you mean something much more grave than just the weird spot of surface-level skin cancer on your neck that was just removed. So. That. You. Can. Get. An. Autograph. Strategy."
(By the way, yes, Jim has recently learned the hard way that sunscreen is a good and wise thing and that it would have been an even good-er and wise-er thing back in his teenage lifeguarding days. He'll be okay. But he will be an every six-monther at the dermatologist from now until eternity to cut, burn, or scoop out all the bad spots that are expected to continue developing on his skin. But back to the story...)
Lance's autograph is now, finally, in place with a bunch of other pro cyclists that Jim has met. Lance's signature is the big, swirly looking one that is on the top right, above the Nike swoosh. It's the most important one. And long awaited too. In Monopoly, it would be like acquiring "Broadway" and then plopping down no less than about five little red hotels on it. It is "the big doozy" amongst all the name scrawlings.
Congrats, Jim! I'm so glad you had a great time!
AHHHHHHHHHHHH! THE PHOTO!!!!!!! Can't wait to hear about it!
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