Dasad arrived ten minutes before the curtain rose. Luckily I had anticipated my friend’s dragonboat practice and emailed his ticket earlier. Nearly all seats had filled by then, stuffed with men and women in varied degrees of pain. I remained seated as we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
“Sorry dude, but this is the least uncomfortable contortion I managed in the last half-hour. If I lose it, I might begin to cry,” I said pointed to my knees tightly wedged under my chin. Behind my ear, my left toe twitched miserably.
“Seriously, I’m this close,” I said pressing my thumb and index finger together, “to sawing off my feet until this thing is over. If you think I’m kidding hand me a pen-knife.” Continue reading