I took a bad nap. I have friends who would argue there is no such thing as a bad nap, but this was a bad nap. I was looking forward to closing my eyes for a few minutes. Three hours later, I awoke feeling worse than I did before I fell asleep. I caught more Z’s than I anticipated.
I had dressed right before I took my three-hour tour of dreamland. Jeans just aren’t appropriate sleepwear. My Polo shirt got caught on my belt, and it was strangling me when I bolted upright. I looked at the time. At first, I thought my alarm clock was deceiving me. I have accused it of lying to me before, but it turns out this time it was telling the truth
Side note: Once, I woke up from a nap at 8:08 and, in my somnolent state, I stared at the clock and said, “It’s BOB. It’s Bob o’ clock? That can’t be right.” Blame the boxy digital letters. My alarm clock looks like a calculator from the late-seventies.
I don’t know why this happens in naps, but I woke up with a crease across my forehead. It was the zipper line from the pillow. Normally, the zipper would have been hidden by the pillowcase, but I must have been thrashing around in my sleep. My sheets were all askew. I assume it was caused by my attempt to get comfortable in my street clothes before falling into my mid-afternoon coma. Either that, or I was being chased by Freddy Krueger. Of course, I hear Mr. Krueger rarely ventures off Elm Street.
When I woke, I realized that I had 15 minutes to get downtown. I had theater tickets. There was no way I was going to make it without a DeLorean or TARDIS, but I had to make an effort. Luckily, I wasn’t IN the show.
Like an extra on “The Walking Dead,” I shuffled to the car. A shower would have awakened me, but I didn’t have time.
Somehow I defied the laws of physics and made it downtown in 20 minutes. Unfortunately, there was a Pirates game, a concert at Consol Energy Center, a plethora of plays and no parking.
There is a lot on Eleventh Street and Smallman Street. Back in the day, we used to call it the Dust Bowl because it used to be a gravel lot. It’s been paved for years now, but I still call it the Dust Bowl. I got the last spot.
I ran to the theater. I was not the only one who showed up late, and they had delayed the start of the production.
The lights went down and the show started. You would think after a three-hour nap, I’d be awake for the show. You’d be wrong. I fell asleep before the curtain rose. Apparently, I missed a key plot point, and I was confused through the entire first act.
It was my second bad nap of the day.