It was Nic’s turn to organize Suppah Club this month and she decided to kick it up a notch with a big Ki-YA!
Instead of simple dinner and drinks where conversation would have inevitably turned toward the diapered astronaut love scandal, we took to the Dojo and honored Code Red’s 20-17th birthday at the same time. Nic and Code Red signed us up for their karate (ka-ra-TE) class to learn some basic self defense techniques. They’ve only been at this a few months but already have more moves than Daniel LaRusso. Nic has her yellow belt and Code Red almost has hers after only a few weeks.
Last night, they were all togged out in the traditional white Gi as was the rest of the class. Enter the Burds: Cameo, Auntie and I -- in head-to-toe black -- were referred to as “The Ninjas” for the rest of the night. LPD, in a bright orange Tennessee t-shirt, stood out like a wee baby carrot as “Tennessee.”
Then, after the requisite bows, our workout – a.k.a. Hong Kong Phooey sideshow -- began.
I almost lost consciousness during the warm up, a side effect of not working out for seven years. LPD stubbed her toe during the high-impact skipping exercise but worked through it like a shinobi. Then we teamed up with each other, taking turns throwing kicks and elbows and punches. At one point, I couldn’t stop doing some involuntary bicycle motion with my pointy arms. The karate instructor reminded me it was not West Side Story. I still couldn't stop the flailing.
At one point, we were instructed to not just kick and punch the board but to kick and punch through the board, really kick and punch the shit out of it. “That’s kind of hard when your friend is on the other side,” we piped up. But then Nic flared up --“THERE ARE NO FRIENDS IN KARATE!!!” with the crazed look of a Cobra Kai.
It was a fantastic time all around, certainly one of the most physically-challenging Suppah Club’s yet. After class, we headed over to Salsa’s for a Mexican nosh where we ate, drank and discussed the diapered astronaut love scandal. Good Times.