THE SCRIBE
The show barn was buzzing with stories about the judge when I arrived to carry
out my duties as scribe. Everyone was talking about the sheet of instructions
the judge was handing out explaining correct rider position, containing explicit
references to female anatomy! I was aghast as I eyed the small horse trailer I
would be sharing in close quarters with this .... lecher! (I conjured up visions
of a handsome, young, virile, man with gleaming white teeth and a leering
smile!)
But my fears vanished when a VERY old wizen man was helped out of the car and
almost carried up the ramp by two helpers who deposited him gently in the chair
beside me. Now my fear was that he wouldn't last the morning in the trailer
judging the horse show!
After we made introductions and settled in, me trapped behind a round table, the
old man began to shake and turn blue in the frosty morning air. Luckily, the
show manager came over and offered us coffee (for me), tea (for him) and horse
blankets (for us both). The poor man was shaking so badly by the time she
returned, I feared my prediction about his longevity would come true. I quickly
wrapped him up in his blanket and put his hot tea in his hand.
Much to my surprise, he was a profound wiggler and did not sit still in his
chair one second while he judged the horses and riders. The blanket kept falling
from his shoulders and he would start to shake and turn blue again, oblivious to
where his blanket was not. I kept putting it back around him, which was hard to
do in the cramped quarters. Finally I gave up and threw my left arm around him
so I could hold the blanket on his shoulders. He barely noticed but I wondered
if all those pairs of eyes out there were wondering why the scribe had her arm
around the judge.
We were running behind schedule, so when the show manager came over at break
time, the judge said he did not need a break. Having gulped three cups of coffee
in less than an hour in an effort to keep warm, I was sorely in need of a break!
I meekly interrupted them and told them my problem. The show manager said, Very
well. Hurry!
I picked up the table, ran down the ramp with it, sat it on the ground, sprinted
across the arena causing the horse that was next in the dressage arena to run
backwards. I climbed the fence, aware of all those pairs of eyes watching me,
and raced over to the port 'o poddy.
There was a long line! I ran to the front of the line explaining I was the
scribe and had to go next so I could get back as they were holding up the show
for me. They kindly obliged. Milli-seconds later the door did not open so I
began banging on the door.
Hurry up in there!
The door opened and our dressage club president emerged adjusting her jodhpurs
saying, I hurried as fast as I could!
I ..ah .. did my business, ran back over to the fence, climbed it, ran to the
trailer causing the horse that was in the arena to run backwards, got the table,
ran up the ramp , sat down, and looked up at "A".
The show resumed. I drank more coffee. At the next break, the show manager came
over and asked the judge if he needed a break . He said no. I meekly said, I do.
I ran down the ramp, across the arena........
The next test was a high level one. About half way through, the judge suddenly
was very agitated and looked over at me and said, I didn't see her do the
pirouette.
What?
Did she do the pirouette?
I looked at him blankly wondering if I should admit I did not know what a
pirouette was. My ego won out.
I wasn't watching, I answered.
Later a rider halted at the far end of the arena. The judge looked agitated
again and said he could not see that far and was the halt square. Elated that I
knew all about square halts since my instructor had drilled into me how a halt
should be, I began describing in great detail how every leg was positioned.
FIVE, he interrupted.
And then it was break time again. This time the judge wanted one but I had
wisely curtailed my coffee drinking so I sat in the trailer with him while he
opened a bag and took out a piece of pound cake an exhibitor had made for him.
He began nibbling on it when suddenly he started coughing horribly. Then he made
choking noises and reached for his throat!
He would choke to death right there in front of me! I thought.
The Heimlich Manuver! While I tried to remember how to do it, he started turning
blue. So instead, I just started pounding on his back in desperation! The sounds
from his throat grew more appalling. He turned bluer. I jumped up knocking over
the table spilling his tea. I pounded harder. He coughed. I pounded harder. He
suddenly started waving his arms and managed to croak, STOP!
Apparently the cake had dislodged some time ago and I was beating him to death.
I picked up the table, sat back down and looked up to see all those pairs of
eyes on me. The show manager walked up. Ahhh, could we have some more tea?
The next hour went by uneventfully. Then the wind started to blow. A horse and
rider was about to start their test when the judge suddenly stood up and
teetered around on the ramp. Anxiously I asked, What's the matter?
My test sheet blew away! he answered.
I'll get it, I protested.
I will, he stubbornly insisted then began tottering around, waved his arms
around then fell out of the trailer and down the ramp!! I quickly stood up
knocking over the table spilling his tea. It rolled down the ramp and landed on
top of him. The horse in the arena began to GALLOP backwards. I ran down the
ramp, got the table off him, picked him up and pushed him back up the ramp.
My SHEET! he protested.
I'LL GET IT! I shouted and shoved him down in his chair.
I went back down the ramp. The horse and rider had come back up (brave souls)
and were eying me suspiciously. The pink sheet was no where in sight.
Did you find it?
Not yet.
I walked around the trailer. No pink sheet.
Did you find it?
NOT YET!
I walked around the trailer again then got down on my hands and and knees (Had I
mentioned it was muddy?) and looked under the trailer. There the pink sheet was,
under the trailer.
Did you find it?, he yelled from within the trailer.
YES!
I crawled under the trailer in the mud on my stomach. I grabbed the pink sheet,
crawled out, stood up and waved the paper proudly at the judge.
I found it!
I walked back up the ramp gave him the sheet which he gratefully accepted,
retrieved the table and sat down. I looked up and remembered where I was.
All those pairs of eyes were looking at me suspiciously.
The show manager walked over. Ahh...can we have some more tea?
When the lunch break came and my shift was over, the judge and I beat a hasty
retreat in oposite directions.
Original can be found at Equine Reading Room