It’s like I can see the future: It’s my vacation and tomorrow at 9:50am under the blazing Egyptian sun and like many a pro tennis player, I will be in a golf cart getting escorted to my court. The only difference being my lack of a tennis bag, entourage and any professional tennis ability. I will have left my family at the breakfast buffet where they will enjoy an assortment of tiny pastries before heading to the pool. Meanwhile, I will have emptied my toddler’s diaper bag to use for my single racquet and water bottle and be headed to play a 10am first-round qualifying match of a $15,000 International Tennis Federation tournament has hijacked my vacation.
The discerning reader might think “isn’t 10 min cutting it a bit close for what (to everyone else signed up) is a professional match?” And I would answer, yes my friend it is. But I have never been a timely person nor (to my own detriment) a warmer upper. * I did ask my husband to warm me up early but a mysterious arm pain arose like mist from the Red Sea and he declined. He is tolerant of me doing crazy things on vacation but refused to let tennis overtake his relaxation time. He did agree tentatively to watch my match—a moral support I feel I need to get through the ordeal I have entrapped myself in because yes, this endeavor is entirely my fault.