I had a colossally bad day. So colossal that if I took the time to rehash everything that went wrong, it would likely take three years and my fingers would wear down past the second knuckle to become little worthless stubs.
Then I wouldn't be able to give anybody the finger, and sometimes that's the only antidote to a day like I just had.
But after stewing about it for hours to the point that I was able to feel the tension pulsing in my temple, I overheard a reporter relay a story in the news room that forced me to put things into perspective.
Apparently a 9-year-old girl was scheduled to sing the "Star Spangled Banner" a capella before the first pitch at our city's minor-league baseball stadium. Well, she fumbled the lyrics. Even though she was visibly shaken, I guess she managed to compose herself, restart from the beginning and complete the song to a standing ovation. Having sung that song at my college graduation, I can't even begin to say how commendable it is that she stuck with it.
But as she was walking off the field toward her mother, tears streaming down her face, she got so upset that she vomited all over the grass.
My heart just broke for her. My bad day will someday be a fleeting forgettable memory. She'll probably never forget that moment as long as she lives.
I just wish I could give her a hug.
And maybe show her how good it feels to give the world the middle finger sometimes.