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Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

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Let's Just Walk....

Letís Just Walk

We walked, and walked and walked. Itís seemed as if we had been walking for years. Why, oh, why, did they build a sports stadium without enough parking? I definitely would not have agreed to come to this game if I had known about THE WALK, which is about a mile for the average fan, about fifty for old women with bad knees.

I thought we were getting here early to find a good parking spot, over two hours before the game. We did find a parking place, how close is a matter of opinion. It was too late to change my mind, so I agreed that we could just walk to the coliseum, hoping I could make it and, plotting the murder of my son who gave us the tickets.

Fast walkers zipped past as I did my best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Why is everyone in such a hurry? I wondered. Itís two hours until game time. "Slow down! Youíll live longer." They ignored me, of course, and continue to rush past. Donít they realize the seats are reserved?

My honey started to get impatient. "Come on!" he said.

"I canít walk any faster," I replied with my best shut-up-or-I-may-kill-you look.

He slowed his pace to mine and we continue to walk. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Okay? My knees are killing me!" How could I possibly be okay while trying to walk a marathon?

"Water!" I gasp. "I must have water!" Like a dying person in the desert, my body was starting to dehydrate. The street turned to sand and cactus sprouted as I inched my body toward an oasis. Well, actually it could have been a street vendor selling bottled water out of an ice cooler, but it looked like an oasis to me.

We walked past ticket scalpers and T-shirt vendors, and crossed a parking lot, long ago filled to capacity with people and cars. They must have been here since noon, tailgating and partying, waiting for the game to start. Busloads of people who parked in remote lots passed us by with a swish of heat and exhaust fumes. Itís all a plot to torment me more, I surmised.

As I gasped for air, I could see a camel caravan through the heat waves in the distance. Actually it was the mounted police here to control the crowd. "Donít worry; Iím way too worn-out from the walking to cause any trouble." We continued our trek across the river bridge, careful to avoid the droppings left by the police camels.

My knees hurt, my feet hurt, my lungs hurt. "Call the paramedics! I canít make it any further." My dying wish was just for a foot massage. But, by then we had actually arrived at the stadium.

We went through the turnstile and were inside! I SURVIVED!

In spite of how exhausted I was, I felt like doing a celebration dance Ė until I saw the ramps leading to the upper decks of the stadium. "I canít do it. I canít walk any more. Havenít these people heard of escalators? Iím going to faint right here and crack my head on the concrete. Iím dying of heat exhaustion. I canít walk another step."

Round, and round, up and up, further and further we walked "Where are these seats? In a weather balloon?" We continued to climb the ramps, passing mountain goats, rock climbers, and scenic overlooks of the city below. Okay, so I was having delusions again. Who wouldnít?

"Iím having a heart attack, a heatstroke! Where is the first aid station? I need a stretcher." Just seconds before I hit the ground; we stopped at a refreshment stand and bought a $5 diet coke, which revived me enough to stagger to my seat.

Only sixty minutes till game time and the stadium is nearly empty? Mostly likely they are all outside still looking for parking because unlike me, they are wise enough not to try to just walk.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss

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