Being a highly successful (read lucky) soccer coach has a few perks. While you get to travel all over the country yelling and flapping your arms about on the sideline, you also have to go to places like Greer, South Carolina.
As Tracy seems to prefer the trips to Las Vegas and Las Vegas, I am left to come to lovely Greer. It's a magical place really. Even has a Macaroni Grille. I ate there last night. The waitress sang. I had rigatoni. But the highlight of the evening was checking in on my lovely bride via the bluetooth speaker phone contraption in my car. With a few people riding shotgun. The conversation went like this:
Me: "How'd your day go?"
Her: (groggy, somewhat coherent voice) "I'm OK. I took a Ben...ben...Benadryl."
Me: "Ok. How did your day go?"
Her: "I took a Benadryl"
Me: "Did you wash it down with a bottle of gin? You sound drunk"
Her: "No, I'm just tired. I took a Benadryl."
In case you, loyal reader (or stumbling internet surfer) are wondering, she took a Benadryl which according to the Harvard Medical Journal is a cure-all. Can't sleep? Take a Benadryl. Congested? Take a Benadryl. Ebola? You guessed it, take a Benadryl.
This is the same logic I've noticed with things such as Tylenol PM or a "Mountain". If you ever have an upset stomach you should either drink a "Mountain" (for those of you who don't speak neck that's a Mountain Dew which is apparently brewed from fairy tears and unicorn hairs) or a "Diet". I suppose this means a diet soft drink of some variety, but haven't been able to figure out which species to date.
Those interesting sidebars aside, the fact is she took her magic Benadryl pill and it apparently was enough to make her sound as if she was sleeping in a cardboard box on the street hustling for another shot of hooch. This fact was apparently lost on her as she answered the phone, but not on the passengers of my car who are all now convinced that Benadryl has some sort of psychedelic element to it.
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