Heard at the TRiKC party

Great time at the TRiKC annual meeting and holiday party. It was odd, realizing that nobody was bored hearing triathlon talk. Imagine it: a house full of people who wouldn't dart their eyes nervously and change the subject.

Ice-breaker question at a triathletes' party: "So what races are you doing next year?"

Memorable moment #1: Getting an impromptu ballroom dancing lesson. Evidently I suck at "reading cues."

MM #2: I nearly made it out of the white elephant with a bottle of Ass Kisser Shiraz. I got an unusual shoulder-sling Thai man-purse instead.

But the best thing I heard was from Tracey (I pick blindly out of the gojillion ways to spell that name). She said: "You know what I love most about racing? Everybody looks so happy. Where else do you go in life where everybody looks happy to be there, where everybody wants to be exactly where they are?"

Yeah. Just... yeah.

And I would end the post there, which would be more elegant. But then you wouldn't get this gem of a Memorable Moment, in which I am too fascinated by the bizarre to resist adding to it.

Bonus MM #3: Actual conversation with the ballroom dance teacher, who is also a roadie.

Me: OK, help me out. I need a selling point. How will dance lessons make my husband a faster cyclist?
Dance Guy: Huh. Yeah, I don't think they would.
Me: Well, that's what would persuade him.
Dance Guy: Actually, the real selling point is that after dancing, the man's partner usually becomes very amorous.
Me: Um, you realize that would be ME.
Dance Guy: Well, most men appreciate that motivation. Tell him that when he dances with his partner, later, she will be incredibly responsive and turned on.
Me: Uh...
Dance Guy: He'd be amazed. Something about dancing that really gets women ready, puts them in the mood for way more than the usual.
Me: DUDE. SERIOUSLY. NO ASSISTANCE REQUIRED.
Dance Guy: Huh?
Me: I said, if it won't make him a faster cyclist, no dice.
Dance Guy: Well. Maybe something about the rhythm.

And that's when I was temporarily rendered speechless by the sheer array of possible inappropriate responses.