11:06 a.m. - Friday, Mar. 03, 2006
Batman Can't Check His Blindspots
Batman Can't Check His Blindspots.
I always seem to get things in pairs.
Last week, Jimmy and Chris and I spent three days at a beautiful Ywam base in Chico, California. Nestled in an incredible valley, surrounded by great hills, it is an awesome place to spend some time with God.
The longing to be one with the mountains overwhelmed us, and on Friday we ventured forth on a hike up the side of a great hill. There were no trails where we walked, except for those created by deer. Carefully, we wound our way to the top of a hill and sat on a rock overlooking the valley. As our Aragorn scouted above us, finding deer skeletons and greater heights, Chris and I (ever the hobbits) sat and smoked pipeweed and reflected on the vista before us. Truly, God is everywhere, but he's especially outside.
We descended from our climb, passing over fallen trees and through thorny brambles, until we reached our starting point, muddier and cleaner at the same time.
Later that evening, Chris and I chatted with the scraggly-bearded groundskeeper as he smoked an American Spirit.
"Good thing you went now and not later in the year. That area is covered in Poison Oak in the summer. They're not in bloom right now. You can get it, but it's pretty hard."
Always up for a challenge, my body decided it would beat the odds and contract the deadly Poison Oak.
A day and a half after we got home from the conference, I noticed a slight itch on my wrist. "Must be a mosquito bite," I thought. "Better take care of that just in case."
I showered and scrubbed, hoping that the problem would take care of itself. Two days later, I was itching all over my left arm, part of my right, and on both thighs. I had beaten the odds.
As I itched and applied the Walgreens brand Hydrocortizone, I noticed a pain in my neck that was in addition to the figurative pain in my neck from the poison oak. I didn't think too much about it until yesterday morning when I realized that I was Batman.
Ever notice that in the Batman movies, his bat-suit is so constrictive that he can't really turn his neck?
I'm Batman.
The day before yesterday, I took my driver's test and obtained my official California Driver's licence. I've not yet driven our sweet, new van yet, because Batman can't check his blindpots.
That's highly dangerous, Mr. Wayne. You simply can't be driving around in a vehicle as powerful as the Batmobile if you can't even check your blindspots!
"Hey, here comes the Batmobile! He sees me right here next to him, right? OH MY GOD!!!" And an innocent Gothamite and his Camry are crushed. Way to go, Batman.
And so, I sit here typing with a low-grade itch and a stiff neck.
A Batman with Poison Oak.
