A lot of furniture gets moved around in December when people put up their Christmas trees. When my friends John and Margaret put up their Christmas tree they have to move their dining room table. When they do this, one person winds up sitting in a chair that is wedged in a corner. Once you’re in it, the Christmas Tree has you blocked in and you can’t get out unless the person on your left gets up. As soon as I got to their house last weekend, I was escorted into that chair.
“You’re sitting in the while-you’re-up chair.”
I knew just what they meant. I invented the concept. I’ve been partying at John’s house for decades and rarely have I ever gone to the refrigerator to get a beer. I always manage to spy somebody getting up, when I needed another beer. “Hey, while you’re up, would you grab me a beer.” We are not just talking about a few times, either. We are talking about thousands of beers over the years. My timing is impeccable.
They still talk about the Super Bowl party that I got there early, plopped down on the couch closest to the TV, and never got up once, not even at half time. Of course, I cheated a little that day. I brought a date, and she kept getting me beers, even when everyone else refused to get me anything, because they all wanted that front-row seat I was hogging. Since I didn’t even get up to pee, my bladder was awarded Super Bowl MVP that year. Unfortunately, my date was flagged by the refs and banned from all future Super Bowl Parties for aiding and abetting the enemy, me. I think they called it Unsportsmanlike Conduct. So, I’ve never been able to duplicate that feat at another Super Bowl Party, but that’s alright. I don’t think my 66-year-old bladder could last until half time, anyway.
So, they don’t even fight it anymore. It’s acknowledged that the while-you’re up chair is whichever chair I’m sitting in. That’s a great honor, and I would propose a toast to John and Margaret if somebody would just grab me a beer.
Peace & Love, and all of the above,