Have you ever had someone try to tell you a funny story, but when nobody laughs, they say, “Well, I guess you just had to be there.” ? Actually, this happens to me quite a bit. So before I tell you my funny story, I will attempt to actually put you in the scene:

It was Friday at around 12:45 PM. The place: Good Stuff restaurant. The city: El Segundo, California. This is your quintessential beach-town eatery, with floor to ceiling windows and surfboards on the walls. The air outside was rather chilly, with just a hint of the morning fog still lingering. Inside, the temperature was a comfortable 76 degrees.

We were seated in one of the less desirable spots: a center table, right near the front door. It was a table for four, yet there were only three of us. I sat facing west, while my friends chose to sit opposite of me, facing east.

There were no females in our party, so the banter tended to lean toward the discussion of the surfer-chick waitresses, most of whom did a very good job of distorting the restaurant logo on the front of their t-shirts: gOOd sTUff.

After my friends and I finished confirming our heterosexuality, the topic of discussion turned toward childhood exploits. This was the story I told:

One day, when I was a kid, I gathered all of my friends and family to watch me “pop a wheelie” on my friend’s bike. There they all were, lined up on the sidewalk, waiting for this momentous event. I climbed onto the bike, got it up to speed and when I felt the time was right, I pulled up hard on the handlebars. Unfortunately, in my excitement, I pulled up too hard. Before I knew it, my butt was kissing the asphalt and the bike was crashing into a parked car.

This story got a little chuckle out of my coworkers and reminded one of them about how, when he was a child, he used to be able to ride a wheelie all the way around the block.

“In fact,” he said, “sometimes I still dream about riding a wheelie down the street. Don’t you ever dream about doing something you used to do a long time ago?”

“Not really,” I replied. “Well, sometimes I dream I’m having sex.”

Anyhow, that’s the story. What? OK, maybe you had to be there.