I glance over at Scottie, who looks positively horrified, her eyes searching for what’s going to happen next.
The music grows louder and louder until I recognize it as the Bulls intro song, “Sirius.” A smile parts my lips, and I lean back in my chair, ready for whatever they have planned, because this is good.
*Fingers crossed.*Please let it be a choreographed dance.
Lights flash onstage while two staffers walk up to Sanders, who is holding his arms out, and then at the same time, they tug on his clothes, pulling his outfit apart and revealing a black Bulls jersey. And then from the ground, a basketball appears, and he starts dribbling while a voice-over plays over the music.
“There is noIin team.”
Scottie covers her mouth on a snort.
“There is no Michael without his Scottie.”
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this large before.
“And there’s no dynasty without teamwork.”
The lights flash on, and out of nowhere, Ellison appears at Sanders’s side, wearing a pair of black booty shorts and a cropped Bulls tank top. Both of them are wearing Air Jordans, both of them decked out in sweatbands. Honestly, this has got to be one of the best things I’ve ever seen.
I couldn’t be happier about saying yes to this experience, because this is what I’m talking about. This is the kind of life I want to see with my own eyes—a couple dressed up as the ’90s Bulls, acting like they’re part of one of the greatest dynasties in sports history.
Someone tosses Sanders a mic. He catches it and then spins a basketball on his finger with the other hand while Ellison squats down and holds on to his leg.
“We are the Martins. Well into our fifties, married for thirty years, and still very much sexually thriving.”
Yikes.
He hands Ellison the mic while he continues to spin his basketball.
“If our marriage has taught us one thing,” she says, “it’s that without effective communication or a game plan, we’re not going to win the trophy.”
Terrible sports analogy, but I’ll let it pass because the lights and fog machines are doing it for me. Hell, when they first came out to the music, I got goose bumps.
“And without a trophy,” she continues as she stands and butts her back up against Sanders’s back, “how can we be the dynasty you look up to?”
Then at the same time, they both shoot their fists up to the sky and bow their heads, and the music and lights shut off.
Cheers erupt from the other couples as the lights start to illuminate the stage again. That’s when I notice everyone standing, cheering them on.
Really, an ovation for that? I mean, it’s not a Meryl Streep performance, but sure, why not stand? I rise with the rest of them and clap, causing Scottie to nearly fall out of her chair as she stands as well.
And I swear to you, as we stand there, clapping and clapping and fucking clapping, I realize one thing: this is seriously going to be the most interesting eight days of my entire life.
The sound of our shoes crunching against the dirt path is the only noise between the two of us as we make our way back to our cabin.
We left the dining hall in a state of shock. Can you blame us though? My mind is still reeling from the performance, and after they were done with the intro, they made us introduce ourselves—which made Scottie nearly dissolve onstage. Then they slid in a giant whiteboard, and like Phil Jackson in the early nineties, they mapped out the keys to a successful marriage.
It was entertaining.
Confusing.
Slightly inappropriate when Sanders made theXkeep humping theOover and over again.
And then at the end, they made us all stand, put our hands in, and then shout “Camp Haven” together as a dismissal.
Now that we’re walking back to our cabin, only the pathway lights illuminating the way, I can’t quite get a gauge on how Scottie feels.
When we reach our cabin, I ask, “Should we check the mailbox?”
