For some background, I'll give you this: As per requirements to get my degree, I had to do a 90 hour practicum in sports. Somehow, I got a hold of the General Manager of the Dakota Wizards, Tom Wagganer, and was able to work with them over the extremely long Bemidji State Christmas break. Nothing special, just helping out with random stuff in the office and game nights. Well, I excel in randomness, so this obviously wasn't going to be boring.
One night, January 12th, 2007, at about 6:54 pm, I was summoned via walkie-talkie to the southeast corner of the Bismarck Civic Center by Tom Wagganer. I figure, being as I haven't even been on the job two weeks, that I probably messed up something up. I hadn't, but somebody else did. This someone happened to be Tulsa 66ers head coach Joey Meyer, a nice guy and by all accounts, a good coach.
Wagganer asks me if I can hurry and get to the luxurious Days Inn, as Coach Meyer forgot his dress pants at the hotel and needs them immediately, as it's 6:55 and Meyer's kicking it in a suit coat and breakaway pants. Not exactly ideal for coaching.
Armed with the keys to Room 321, I head up to the Days Inn, on the other side of town. The Bismarck Days Inn, as I expect with all Days Inn's, is not exactly nice. If we were in Vegas, it would probably be Terrible's, without $5 blackjack tables featuring Paul Mokieski and a super restaurant that two can eat at for a grand total of $7, including tip.
Upon arriving in Meyer's room, I see that there are actually two pairs of pants, both nicely creased and such, so I grab both pairs as this the easiest route and head on my way. Turns out,
grabbing both pairs was in my best interest, because running out of the hotel, I accidentally step on one of the pairs of pants. This led to one nice pair of tan pants, and one gravelly, wet, dirty pair of black pants.
Once I arrive back at the arena, sitting in my car, I'm not so excited to give Coach Meyer's his pants. I actually debate stealing the pants that I dropped, as he wouldn't realize until he got back to his hotel, and even then, maybe not at all as he never specified I'd have two to choose from. However, I decide I'll just fold the dropped pair up all nice and bring them both to him, and be prepared for the ridicule.
Fortunately, once I get inside, Wagganer is waiting at the back door, ready to take Coach Meyer's his pants and I miss out on any ridicule. Much to my surprise, I haven't heard anything about Meyer complaining about the pants. Since I think Coach Meyer retired after Wooly Paul Woolpert took over in Tulsa, I'll probably never be able to interrogate him on how he took the dirty pants ordeal, or even why I wasn't thanked for taking 15 minutes to drive through Bismarck on snowy January just to get his pants.
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