money, friends, and frisbee

On Monday, May 17th, I received a letter from a friend of mine. In it he wrote, �First things first: ultimate. You should (must) come back for 4th of July Pittsburgh, or I am screwed. People have asked about whether or not you might grace us with your determined-to-kick-ass style of play this summer. I always respond with, �She is in the land of the Rising Sun.� Everybody turns away disappointed.�

The flattery of being asked to play in a tournament with players better than myself and the flattery of being told that people have asked about me was almost too much to bear. Several times through the course of my workday, I asked my boss to assign me mindless, repetitive tasks. It was the only thing I could do to manage to be the slightest bit productive while memories of last year�s tournament and fantasies of this year�s flashed in my mind.

As soon as I got home, I set about searching for the cheapest flight to Philadelphia. The lowest listed prices were just over $650. Mentally throwing in $70 for tax, I found myself weighing the financial burden of $720 against the possible repeat of tournament glory [last year�s team went undefeated until the last game, resulting in a very respectable 2nd place], the comfort of familiar faces, and the chance to buy some shoes that really fit. It was decided that $720 was a good deal.

After a couple more days of research, reality set in. There was no way I was going to pay a mere $720 and get myself to Philly. I was looking at $900+, which is practically $1000. I found myself weighing the new price:$1000 not against glory, good friends, and a new wardrobe; but against the chance to embarrass myself on the playing field, people that well, really aren�t that close of friends, and overpriced, poorly made goods that I can live without even if my toes are a tad uncomfortable.

I�ve been a pendulum for the past few days. �I should go,� and one hour later it�s, �I should stay.�

On Friday, during a period of �I should go,� I confessed to my boss�a young, married woman who is my closest friend in Japan�what my thoughts for the past 5 days had revolved around: a tournament of a semi-unpopular sport that triggers stereotypes of pot-smoking and hippies in the average 20-something�s mind. She laughed. But it wasn�t a �that sounds ridiculous� kind of laugh; it was a �Okay, I dig it, let�s see what can be done / I can�t believe that�s all you had to tell me / Adele you�re weird� kind of laugh.

We decided that the words �Frisbee� and �tournament� were not to be breathed to any of the higher-ups in my quest to feel out as to whether or not I could obtain permission to use my vacation time at the time I wanted. If required, the words �Frisbee� and �tournament� would be replaced with �friend� and �wedding.�

I�m of the mindset that my supervisor deserved to be told �friend� and �wedding.� After all, she asked to be privileged to information that, as a person who�s relationship with me does not extend outside the workplace, she is not privileged to. [I�m not proud of my Frisbee addiction, and I know that she could never understand why I am drawn to it�or any other sport. Therefore, she could not understand how Frisbee could justify 9 days of missed work. But almost virtually everyone can imagine how a �wedding��especially that of a �friend��could justify a trip abroad. . . .we�ve all seen it on �Friends.�]

Tuesday, after Fuwa High School�s principle returns from his vacation and has a brief talk with the vice-principle, I will most likely get the go-ahead from my job to go-ahead and fly to Philly.

But, I�ve still to decide whether or not to give myself the go-ahead.