Took a fast trip to Tuscaloosa last week when I smuggled aboard the University of Tennessee Lady Vols basketball team bus. I expected to watch my team take it to the Bama Girls, but a couple of things happened. It might be easy to stow-away on a bus, but not so easy to slip in the doors of an athletic center. Security wasn’t an issue, but the hundreds and hundreds of human feet shuffling through the gates was. Even the team entrance proved a little disconcerting. If you are human get down on your hands and those things you call knees and try it sometimes. It’s a rib banging experience.
But my persistence paid off. I weaseled in behind the team’s bench to hear Pat Summit rail at the girls. Intense. They were being outrebounded and Coach thinks that is blowing some court opportunity. The Lady Vols won, but coach was mad. Winning isn’t everything, but how you play the game is. I’m glad I wasn’t on the end of the icy stares. No words needed when Coach is on fire.
As much as I loved to see the whole game, the crowd was no place for a cat. No one is paying attention to me. The dangers of stomping feet is too risky, to say nothing of the sticky floor caused by spilled soda. It’s worse than standing in the middle of a busy intersection. When the substitution horn went off I nearly jumped out of my fur.
I went looking for a quieter place where I could clean the soda off my toes. It’s amazing where you can go when you act like you belong there. In this case, the comforts of Athletic Director’s office. I snuggled up on a few papers on the desk, leaving a small pile of fur, toenails and a trail of sticky foot prints. Next thing I know the lights are on and someone is asking, “Where did you come from?” Not much on answering questions, I took off down the hallway before anyone could catch me. Out the door I went to discover I slept the whole night and missed the bus back to Knoxville.
Oh well, I back tracked to Birmingham and took in dinner at the aquarium. Hey, can I help the fact that I haven’t had a fresh fish dinner since the night I cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge? Whose going to miss a few fishies anyway?
It is time to get serious about getting to Florida. I would have been there by now except I had run in with the wiry little cook at China Buffet in King Frog, Georgia. He got a little upset when he found me in the kitchen. Called the cops. All he needed was a broom and I would have scrammed. Instead, this guy thought there was someone else stalking the pots and pans. He got scared and asked the Georgia Highway State Patrol to investigate. There I was in the kitchen with spicy pork all over my chin and a flash light shining in my eyes.
Fortunately, there was no attempt to collar me. Lots of laughing by the Patrol Guy. But the cook wanted to serve me up for dinner. Made mental note. Some Chinese do eat kitties.
Now preparing to enter Florida to raise hell. Spring break baby.