X: Race Goggles

Five minutes before the race gun was scheduled to go off to signify the start of the Pigman Triathlon in Iowa, Illinois, or Indiana—it was one of those Midwestern "I" states that I can't ever keep straight—I savored my place at the front of the line for the long group urinal. My final expulsion would be, as usual, carefully and perfectly timed. Suddenly, my goggles slipped off my head and plunked down into the urinal. Several of my competitors groaned in unison. "Bummer, dude!" Bummer, dude? "This is a lifestyle, not a hobby, you bunch of dilettantes," was my swift and strong response. I plunged my hand into the basin, fished out my soggy race goggles, and trotted to the beach just in time to work my way to the front of the swim pack. Bummer, dude? Eat my feet! We'll see who's bummed when we reach the finish line. – Racer X