88, 89 . . .

I went and did another 88improv show in Omaha this past weekend with good friends Tim and Sarah Schoenfeld. It was for the Cargill Christmas Party, and I had a pretty stinking good time.

The food was great, the people laughed, and I had a lot of fun playing improv games. The team of 88improv is just about the best team you could hope to watch, and it's hard for me not to laugh the entire time I'm up there with them.

In an effort to try and liven up the old blog again, I'll relay an old story from my days at Northwestern College in Orange City, IA. I didn't attend Northwestern, but my wife Andrea did, so I was there for several years.

I first met the guys from 88improv while at Northwestern, and we liked to get together once in a while and have fun. Well, one Friday night we're all sitting around looking for something to do, and I ask the guys if they want some golf balls. I'd been biking every morning around the Orange City golf course, and I noticed that there were often thousands of golf balls just laying around on the practice range. They apparently didn't believe in picking them up very often.

So we all jump on some "borrowed" bicycles (which we returned!) and headed off to the golf course. It was late enough, and dark enough, that no one was there, so we went to work. I took off my hockey jersey and tied off the sleeves and the neck to form a make-shift sack of sorts. Then we stuffed the thing with hundreds of golf balls.

When we got home, we really didn't know what to do with all the golf balls. First we spread them out on the floor and took turns rolling around on them. It was a pretty amazing feeling to shoot across the floor as they rolled underneath. I think we let them all fall down some stairs a few times. Then we got an idea.

Andrea and I were living in a house owned by theater professors Jeff and Karen Barker. We were in an apartment attached to the house, and the rest of the home was occupied by several other theater students.

We grabbed the big bag of golf balls and headed down to the basement room of Amy Christiansen. She had one of those little dorm fridges, so we tipped it backwards and proceeded to fill it all the way to the door with the golf balls. Then we put it back into place and made ourselves scarce.

I don't remember if I was around or not when Amy finally opened her fridge, but I'm sure it was hysterical.

DISCLAIMER
Now, I don't condone the theft of golf balls from golf course practice ranges. I know what we did was wrong, and I'm very sorry about it now. I'm not sure what happened to the big bag of golf balls, but I'm sure we returned them all to where we found them . . . I'm pretty sure anyway.

Till next time,

Jason