I was never a boy scout, but I understand the motto (to an extent).
I even stole it once. Sort of.
(Oh, all right. Many (better make that at least two ‘many’s) years ago I was on the school debating team. At one competition I had to debate an articulate and intelligent young lady on the concept of cowardice as a virtue. I took the point of view that a society based on cowardice would of necessity Be Prepared for a wide range of circumstances because they would know that individuals, being cowards, would be disinclined to heroics. I won but we were both shellacked in the next round.)
Monday was hockey. I’ve commented before that I’m not a particularly good player. Heck, I’m pretty darned bad — not always the worst one on the ice, but often. I’ve mentioned before (‘Expecting‘) that my goals are low when I play.
When I drove to hockey yesterday (the city, in their infinite wisdom, built the new arena in an industrial park that you need to take a highway to get to) there was something unexpected in the parking lot.
Paramedics. Sitting. Waiting. They watched me arrive with moderate interest.
I know I’m a bad player, but that seemed just a tad… overprepared.