Due to a change in Brad's work schedule and my incredibly flexible life, our weekly tennis match-up has been moved to Wednesday mornings. Our first go round was today, and it was rather hysterical.
We showed up to our usual hot spot and were quickly surprised by the 80 to 90 year old folks blasting on all ten courts. I almost snagged a court until a disgruntled four-some kicked me off. So we packed our racquets and headed to the neighborhood park of PB where we were again detoured to another set of courts.
And behold the Avalon apartment complex, aka the dorms of PB. This place is ridic. I actually recall a late night of being there once courtesy of TC & Kukich (it is VERY fitting that those two clowns live in the college-like clump of PB residents).
The courts were on top of a parking garage allowing any and every type of funky bounce. The balls echoed with each shot. We both giggled throughout the two set match because it felt like we were in the twighlight zone.
But my favorite part was the story that Brad told of his old home. The mini salon that sits caddy-corner to the courts holds a semi-porn star hairstylist who enjoys the occasional cig as well as treating her clients to a shot of Don Julio.
Cheers to our country club Wednesday!
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