The Last Adventurer

“Man, it’s chilly.” Senor Inteligente griped as he limped along.

“It’s Chicago in mid-April.” I noted sardonically. “What did you expect, grass skirts, and bikinis?”

“No…” He said quietly. “But my leg really hurts in the cold.”

Inteligente had injured himself three days ago. I knew that for a fact, as I had seen the accident in all of its stunning non-grotesqueness. I had been waiting with Bismarck and some others outside of a local movie theater. We were about to see Mission Impossible. Unbeknownst to us, walking in a coordinated manner was Mission Improbable for Inteligente. Minutes passed. Inteligente was late as usual. Impatiently, we waited. Finally, Inteligente sauntered up the path in that funny stride of his, kind of jaunty, but more similar to how a duck walked. We were seated on the far side of a cement planter. The broken white cement circled the shrubs inside like a low moat.

Chanting what could only be a bad and off-key rendition of the theme song in a high pitched voice, Inteligente jumped onto the far side of the planter, and in a half-running leap full of desperate bravado and vitality, tried to leap over to our area. Unfortunately, gravity had other plans for Inteligente. Instead of landing suavely and debonairly next to us in true stuntman fashion, he came crashing down on his face. At the time, it appeared that he had escaped true physical injury; but massive damage to his fragile pride. Moreover, as true friends, we laughed uproariously and raucously at him, and refused to miss the movie, even though he insisted that he was in grave danger of death.

The next day, when it was time to leave for Chicago, he arrived at the airport on crutches that he had borrowed from our teammate, Mr. Clean. It was not surprising that Clean had lent Inteligente crutches, because Clean was a classic hypochondriac who constantly obsessed about germs to the point of carrying his own package of anti-bacterial wipes everywhere with him. Momentarily, I felt guilty that he had been hurt, and I had neglected his well being for a chance to mock him incessantly.

Just as I was preparing to apologize, a miracle occurred. The trans-continental flight from San Diego to Chicago apparently healed whatever mystery knee, ankle, or leg injury that Inteligente possessed. I say this because Inteligente forgot the crutches at the baggage claim in Chicago, and walked normally for a day and a half without them, until he remembered that he had been using them based upon the constant jokes we had been making about his ‘injury’ once it had clicked in our heads that he was crutchless.

“Don’t forget.” Mr. Clean said looming over us in the darkness. “You owe me new crutches.”

“Screw off!” Inteligente said indignantly. “You even told me before that you didn’t want them back.”

“You never know when you’ll need crutches.” Clean replied calmly.

The doors swung open, and we entered the communal area. We clustered around the roaring fire, trying to warm our frozen neurons. This was essential, because we were in Chicago as part of a national quiz bowl type competition. It was like Jeopardy, without Alex Trebek, and in team fashion, with a lot more math, science, and other trivial questions. So really, it wasn’t like Jeopardy at all. I had made it onto the team at my school because I fulfilled a designated and specialized role. I was the team trouble-maker. Sure, occasionally, I came up with an answer worthy of a magi, but mostly, I was there for my bad-boy persona. Similarly, Mr. Clean was there because he was the hunky one. And also similarly, Mr. Hush, and the Egyptian were there because they were the team weirdoes, and every quiz bowel team had to have at least two weirdoes. I was very pleased to know that my position was not one of “odd-shut-in-who-knew-obscure-facts”..

The team was really comprised of three people, also a rule. Although teams had to have at least five members, only three were really necessary to answer questions. In our case, the people that provided those answers were our team captain, Aristotle the Fro, Sr. Inteligente, and Ms. Savant. The remainder of us, namely, Clean, Hush, the Egyptian, Ms. Politics, and I were really dragged along to fill space, comply with the rules, and look hunky or freaky. I wasn’t going to complain about my role. It had led to free trips to such exotic places as Irvine, Chicago, and Las Vegas. I could definitely try to be a team player for free travel.