Blum on Bridge A Championship Story
	It was Saturday morning, the next to last day of the Fall North American Bridge Championships in Orlando, Florida. Neither my roomy, Mark Lair, nor I had to play until 1 o'clock. We were trying to get a little extra shut-eye, but it wasn't working. So after calling Sally and Connie, our respective wives, we decided to go to breakfast. By the time we left the Country Hearth it was around 11:30. However, the walk to the playing area at the Peabody Hotel was about a quarter-mile of good exercise. By the time we finished breakfast it wasn't quite 12:30, still plenty of time before game start. We wished each other good luck and went our separate ways. Mark was playing in the second qualifying of the North American Swiss Teams at the Peabody. Me, all I knew was that I was playing with Mike Cappalletti in either the two- session Regional Stratified Pairs or Swiss Teams. I was about to get the daily bulletin to find out whether I was playing at the hotel or the Convention Center across the street when I heard Mark calling to me. "My head's stopped up and Sudafed costs $10 at the hotel", he said. "There's a drug store down the road that sells a small box for $2. Can you drive me there?" Mark had flown in from Texas so had no wheels. So I said, "Sure, I'll pick you up out front in five minutes." Chest out, stomach in, as I did a heel-toe Olympic walk to my trusty Toyota back in the lot at the Hearth. When I reached for the door handle my watch read 12:35. With seat belt fastened I zoomed out of the lot thinking we ain't gonna make it. Mark was there and calmly said, "It's about two miles on the right." Folks, have you ever driven two miles down International Drive in Orlando on Thanksgiving weekend? To begin, we went 0 for 3 in traffic lights. While I moaned, Mark said, "I'm an optimist." Hey, this is the guy that makes 80 percent of his finesses so who am I to argue. We'd crawled for about a mile and with the big hand of my watch between 9 and 10, Mark saw a shopping center on a side street to our right. "Pull in there. I've got a feeling." Sure enough, right smack in the middle of the center, was a food market. With the car still moving, Mark did a record 50 meters through the store door. My engine was gunning but couldn't drown out the ticks of my watch. "Where is he?" Finally out the door came my roommate, package in hand. Opening the door, he said, "They won't take my credit card. Have you a five?" Reaching quickly into my pocket, all in one motion, I handed him his request. Back into the store he went. "Oh God", I said. With the store door still swinging, out he came jumping into his seat. I felt like Cinderfella, as the number 11 had been reached by "big hand." I thought, "One more number and I'm going to turn into a pumpkin." Finding an exit out of the center I drove madly toward the International Drive intersection. What? No oncoming traffic, but a red light. Three minutes to go. As Mark sat stoically staring straight ahead, I did the unthinkable, only visualizing the light green. The Gods must have been with us because there was little traffic during the return. "Hey, we made it. It's "one" on the nose." My happiness was short lived, for with no time I had to valet park. Five bucks plus a dollar tip. Following Mark into the Peabody I suddenly screeched to a halt. Where in the devil am I playing? As Mark calmly strode to his game, he called, "You're at the Convention Center across the street, but it's not very far." Once again, chest out, stomach in. Heel toe, heel toe. Only 10 minutes late. "What happened?" asked Mike. "Don't ask", replied Bob. As I pulled the cards from the board I thought, "Five to Mark, five to valet park, plus a buck tip comes to $11, aggravation included. Mark saved his $8, even making his game on time. Would Mark do this for me? Would I do it for him again? The answer to both - in a heartbeat. That's what friends are for