On jet lag...

You know what they say about jet lag? All those tips and tricks you can read on how to avoid it, when to sleep, drink eat and stand on your head?
Well, truth be told. Jet lag is a tricky thing, You never know exactly how and when it will set in. I maintain to this very day, that I live in my own private little time zone and the reason why I occasionally sleep during class is that crossing over into the real world leaves me a wee bit jet lagged.
I usually don't have that much problems with jet lag, and in my experience jet lag is always less of a problem when heading east. Which is why, I had come up with a brilliant plan, which involved me arriving Thursday evening (about 12AM my time), staying up a few more hours so as not to rise and shine before 5 or 6am East Coast time, take care of a bunch of little administrative stuff Friday morning and then head out to Pennsylvannia for a rugby weekend, involving a practice session Friday evening and a tournament Saturday with the NRU (the Northeastern Rugby Union). I'd be back Saturday evening. In time to do a quick load of laundry and repack my bags for a 4-5 day "cruise" trawling for sturgeon.
In my defense, I had planned to nap Friday afternoon in the car. That didn't exactly happen and I somehow procrastinated my actual jet lag until Monday when I power-napped between setting the net in and pulling out and sorting through a bunch of fish.
Friday evening is a bit hazy, though apparently I managed not to make a complete fool of myself during practice. Or that evening at the dinner table, when we all sat at a loooooooooong table at one of the coaches house. I remember trying to remember names (I had told the girls that I was completely jet lagged and probably wouldn't remember their names. But I always enjoy meeting new players and looked forward to meetin them again on Saturday). I don't really remember going to bed...
Saturday morning I woke up. It was one of those slow, confused awakenings that are more like re-gaining consciousness than actually waking up. It started with - "why am I still wearing my rugby shorts?" To "where am I and why am I on the floor?" (apparently I'd rolled off the air mattress I was sleeping on) and ended with "Why am I in a strange attic and who are all these people?!".
Such is life. But then doesn't everyone have a crazy story about waking up in a strange attic somewhere?!

The "I got my Mom for help"-effect

So, sports being a big deal does come with benefits. For example, a pool to be used when no team practice is going on. Currently, my ears a still full of water from testing this priviledge yesterday.
It didn't go exactly as planned - that is the swimming part did, it was the part after that made for one of those "I can't believe this is happening"-moments.
I returned quite wet and ready to get changed to realize that I had somehow managed to jam my locker which contained all my clothes.
Not good.
I put quite a bit of effort into getting it open.
To no avail.
I went back into the pool ask the lifeguard-dude for help (or where to find help) and he directed me to the front desk. Which I had sort of expected, but had been secretly hoping there would be an alternative to walking out in the lobby in my bathing suit.
So I wandered out in my bathing suit only to find -
noboy.
Considering my options would have been wandering the entire Indoor Sports Complex in my bathing suit I opted for hanging out in the lobby looking lost and confused hoping somebody would show up who could help me.
Somebody (a female somebody, which was even more convenient) did show up. Opened the door to "building maintenance" went in and just when I was about to knock came back out again, saw me still standing in the front lobby in my bathing suit and said: "Do you need some help?".
I almost said: "Yeah, do I look like I usually run around lobbies in my bathing suit?!" - because a) I don't (hang around in lobbies in my bathing suit) and b) I really don't look like I run around in my bathing suit. Or anywhere for that matter. And if you've seen my in a bathing suit lately, it becomes quite obvious. I have tan lines from my shorts, tan lines from my t-shirt(s) and tan lines from the one day I did run around in my bathing suit.
Instead I said: "Yeah, I jammed my locker..." and we went back into the women's changing room she said: "Which one." and I said: "This one." And she grabbed the handle and -
It opened. No problem. Great.
This is the "I got my Mom for help"-effect as in you can't find something in your room and the moment you get your Mom she walks into your room and -
There it is.