Run Tulley Run

I like to do fun things.

I like to do different things.

I like to watch shelled animals race each other.

A great time for all is the local turtle races in the Marina at a bar called Brennans. They've been hosting the TURTLE RACES for years and has actually become a staple for young, single hot spots on Thursday nights. How I have never been there is beyond me. Apparently, it takes a little visit from the sister to get me out there (or so I tell her).

My first thought on the way to Brennans was, "Well, they're turtles. They are slow. What if they don't finish? Does everyone just sit around a stare at some slow-ass giant snails moseying across a finish line?"

Not even close. First, there are drink specials - BONUS. Second, you pay $5 and "adopt" a turtle for the race. Of course we needed to get one and Gwen named him Tulley. (I wanted "Manolo" but I was outvoted.) Third, average age of attendees was 23 - apparently the local college thinks turtle racing is a rager, so for the first time in a very very long time, we were the oldest ones in there. Luckily, we were recognized as attractive an old as the host/emcee/whatever guy kept referring to us as the "Desperate Housewives in the front". OUCH. (Can you say backhanded compliment? Well, better than than the "Golden Girls in the front.))

They go in heats (not IN HEAT, in heats), much like human races, except the turtles aren't wearing little spandex underwear (if they were, that could actually be pretty amusing) and I was astounded at how quick those little buggers are! The longest race took 39 seconds.

But here's the catch and here's where Tulley deserved a recount.

You can't point at the turtles. I don't have a clue why, but if you point at a turtle, the race has to be restarted. Well, Tulley took off out of the starting gate and jammed to the finish line lickity-split but then some nugget in the stands POINTED at their slow-ass mutant turtle. So back they all went. But, Tulley was exhausted. He had put 110% into the initial race and then was forced to race again. And he just couldn't do it. He went from the grand winner to the grand loser - all with a finger point. We wanted to break the kid's finger off his hand but bitter "old" woman breaking body parts over racing amphibians is never an hot attraction at any bar.

After a few tears were shed and a few shots were had we forgave Tulley and proceeded on with our evening which was a total blast (Tulley I'm sure crashed out on the nearest rock - or where ever those little guys sleep).

Next on our agenda? The paint drying Olympics - I hope they have drink specials too!