single minded or obsessive?

It has been suggested to me that I might be slightly obsessive. I don't actually come off that way in every day life, but after people hear this story...well, obsessive is the word most often used (personally I like "determined", but whatever). I call it the "God Doesn't Get To Win" story.

A few years back Christine and I were in New York for the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. We'd never been and thought it will be really fun, so I'd flown up for a long weekend and we spent two days at Madison Square Garden taking in all the dog show madness, and it was great. One of the great things for me, though, was the food.

Okay, here's a little secret about me: I really love arena food. Nachos, popcorn, cotton candy, ice cream, etc., all the badly made, over salted over sugared stuff you get at any major sporting event is better to me than anything available at a five star restaurant (except maybe champagne). And Madison Square Garden had GREAT arena food - the nachos were just how I like them (no real cheese, just cheese colored sauce drowning really salty chips), and they had AMAZING peanut oil fries. Seriously, just ask Christine, they were the shit.

Anyway, as in any other sporting event you could either go to the concession stand for these delightful treats, or wait for one of the roving waiters to come your way. Mostly I'd go to the concession stand when I got the urge for a snack, but the rovers were peddling one thing I wanted - a Häagen-Dazs bar.

I'd been watching the ice cream peddlers make the rounds for a day and a half, and I'd decided I was going to have an ice cream bar towards the end of the night on day two. I'd been resisting the whole time, saving that creamy vanilla covered in chocolate delight for the grand finale of my two day arena food binge. But when I decided the time was right, suddenly none of the rovers were roving my way.

Time after time I'd watch them get one or two sections away, then go back in the other direction. Then they'd come from the other direction, get one section away....then go back! I was twitching in my seat, practically vibrating with irritation, and every time one of them veered off in another direction...well, let's just say I was getting annoyed.

Christine was fairly amused by all this, and after the fourth or fifth time this happened, she put a consoling hand on my arm and a chiding expression on her face. "Maybe," she said to me in a voice that almost managed to be serious, "God doesn't want you to have an ice cream bar."

Well, fuck that noise.

I sucked in some air, stood up, and through clenched teeth declared, "God doesn't get to win!" Then I chased the Häagen-Dazs lady down three sections over and got my ice cream bar.

It was the best ice cream bar I've ever had.