Chester & Rodney - Rodney Go Round
Today can only be described as vertiginous.As we do most weekends, we began our day bright and early this morning.We got all packed up and started the trip up to Connecticut for an agility trial. We dogs like to get a few Zs while dad drives and mom navigates. Chester says it’s important to arrive well rested to agility trials. He told me last night that we were going to a new venue - not new for him, but new for me. He said that this place was an indoor sports center, in a big bubble. This intrigued me, I was really only familiar with two types of bubbles.The first ones are the ones made from soap and water, you know the kind. They’re the ones that kids create by blowing into a wand that’s previously been dipped in a bottle containing soapy water. Anyhow, I’m no dummy, so I know that this type of bubble would not make a suitable building for a sports center. Thus, I conclude that the type of bubble to which Chester is referring is the type that comes from bubble gum.I’m concerned by this for many reasons. My extensive experience with bubble gum bubbles has taught me that; one, they don’t last long and, two, when they do pop, they’re extremely sticky. What kind of madman has designed a building that will pop at the blink of an eye and trap everyone inside in a sticky mess? And what kind of nitwits would enter such a bubble building?
Two hours later, while still pondering this concept, we arrive at the trial site. There it is.The bubble building, up close and personal. The first thing I notice is that it is not pink. I thought all bubble gum was pink. I mean, I’ve never actually chewed it. I’m not allowed. Mom says it would ruin my mustache and beard. I’ve seen her chew it, though, and it’s pink. But I digress, the building in question is not pink. So, we park and walk over to the building. Now I notice that it’s not even made out of gum. What type of bubble is this? Upon closer inspection, it would seem it’s more of a tent - a huge inflatable tent. The doors are funky, too. They seem to revolve, like a turnstyle. I watch people go into the turnstyle and come right back out, in and out, in and…I start to feel queasy. I look away to gather my wits about me and hear dad’s voice saying “Come on, Rodney!” He starts walking towards the building. “Let’s go inside”, he says. Is he mad? How are we supposed to get in there? Is he suggesting the turnstyle is an access point? Everyone that tries to enter gets regurgitated back out. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I stand there, stupefied at the mere suggestion that this can end well for us. Dad gives me a gentle pull and I follow. I check my six to make sure that mom is coming with us and into the turnstyle we all go. It does not go well. The door in front of me starts moving, while the door behind me starts pushing me. I get a bit stressed and am baffled by the fact that the folks seem unfazed. We start walking in a circle when, suddenly, I feel a change in air pressure and we’re inside the bubble! Inside the belly of the beast, if you will. If you thought elevators were exciting, I suggest you try this contraption. The sheer mechanics of it are genius.
We spend a couple of hours inside. All the while I’m wondering how we’re going to get out again. Are we to be regurgitated like last year’s fruitcake? I won’t leave you in suspense. We basically go out the same way; into the turnstyle, walk in circles and voila! We go back into the building a few times, all of which I handle expertly. I’m proud to say that I only needed the one time to become desensitized. After that, I was a revolving door pro - I even helped dad push the door.I am my father’s son, indeed.