Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons

by Shelly Mazzanoble

Fortunately, it’s also not a problem for me because I’ve got some backup deo—oh, no! The Great Car Clean Out! How could I be so stupid as to leave the owner’s manual in and take the deodorant out? Maybe I had time to stop at a drugstore on my way but that would mean driving eight blocks in the wrong direction and Audra was already in a time crunch. I may be uptight, overprepared, and rigid, but I’m not tardy. There had to be something in the car to mask the smell. Some antifreeze, maybe? Or perhaps I could pull into a Shell station and dab a little gasoline behind my ears. I checked the glove box, under the seat, and the pockets on the back of the seats. My car wasn’t this clean when I bought it! Was that red light taking longer than usual?

  I was really sweating, which was bringing this situation up to an orange alert. And seriously, what was up with this red light?

  By some stroke of divine intervention (or maybe cantrips by Tabitha), a trial-sized bottle of hand sanitizer materialized under the passenger’s seat. I dabbed a few drops under my arms, even though I suspected it would be like trying to mask a decomposing corpse with an unscented candle. And yes, I did just compare my underarms to a decomposing corpse.

  I really wanted to go home, take a shower, and eat some instant oatmeal for dinner, but this was the new world order. Would Tabitha forgo a meal because she was a little ripe from crawling around a dungeon all day? Probably not. And I’m really craving Panera’s black bean soup.

  “Why do you keep scratching your pits?” Audra asked when we sat down, right on time. “You look like Koko the gorilla.”

  Looking like a gorilla I could handle. Smelling like one was a different story. The hand sanitizer stunk enough to temporarily mask the smell, but it was sticky. The drier it got, the pastier it became under my arms. Perhaps it was the extra onions I ordered for my salad but Audra seemed none the wiser about my less-than-fresh feeling. Or maybe she was being polite.

  “Seriously, Shazzer, you need to stop with the arm flapping,” she said, laughing. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Nah, definitely not being polite.

  WEDNESDAY

  DON’T MAKE MOUNTAINS OUT OF MINOTAURS

  Ugh. My stomach hurts. And why does my mouth taste like a gym shoe? Oh, that’s right. I ate my body weight in onions last night. I bypass the usual cup of coffee and Facebook morning routine in favor of taking an extra-long shower. I need to double the dose on my ginger body wash just to cut through the stench. I have onions coming out of my eyeballs. Maybe I should make an emergency appointment with my aesthetician.

  Last night’s dinner coupled with today’s ginger moisturizer is probably making me smell like a big bowl of spicy Thai noodles, but I’ll take it. In fact, I’d take it for lunch over what I find in my lunch sack—a frozen black bean and mango Kashi meal. The people in the commercials look so happy and carefree as they lift a hearty, seven-grain forkful to their healthy mouths, but I’m already dreading it. At least I have my workout to look forward to. Wednesdays Nina and I go for a run, and it’s less like exercise and more like happy hour with your long-lost bestie. I know what you’re probably thinking. If we can chat it up for the entire run, we’re probably not working as hard as we could be. We think you’re wrong. Obviously, it’s being in incredible shape that allows us such pleasures.

  I reach into my gym drawer to pull out clean clothes when I’m overwhelmed by a cold terror. My clothes! I forgot my stash was cleared out, and worse—I am not in the habit of bringing my daily duds. Oh, no! I called Nina right away.

  “Emergency!” I screamed into the phone. “I need gym clothes!”

  “Um, hold on. I have to call you and borrow some.”

  I gently reminded her of my weeklong experiment, and then we were both depressed.

  “But I was going to borrow some socks,” she said.

  “Haven’t you learned anything from me?” I asked. “Why don’t you have backup?”

  “Because I have you!”

  Whatever. What I should be asking is what would Tabitha do if she was faced with a mighty quest and lacking the proper robes? Well, being a wizard and all she could probably conjure some up with an enchantment. I guessed I could rush over to Macy’s and conjure some up with my credit card, but a quick glance at my work calendar showed that couldn’t happen unless I could suddenly pull off a six-minute mile in jeans and heels.

  My Tabitha miniature stared down from my monitor.

  “Wimp,” she said. “You’d find a way to make it work if you were hardcore like me.”

  “Look, you mouthy mage,” I responded. “You live in a fantasy world. If dragons are things you see on your daily commute you can’t tell me how to live in the real world.”

  “What kind of adventurer are you?” she asked. “You’re going to let a little thing like Spandex keep you from accomplishing your goal?”

  “Spandex? What decade did you teleport to?”

  “Are you on the phone?” a co-worker who snuck up behind me asked.

  I hate not having a door.

  “No. I mean, yes,” I pick up the phone to continue my conversation with Tabitha.

  “No one wears Spandex unless they’re competitive bike riders or super-heroes,” I whispered. “And whatever. I can work out tonight at home. I’ll do one of those On Demand programs.”

  “Liar,” Tabby said. “Big Brother is on tonight. You’ll be sprawled out on the couch with your fat cat wallowing in the self-superiority complex you stupid humans get whenever you watch people melt down on national television.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Those are some pretty big words coming from someone who isn’t even two inches tall.”

  “I’m just saying,” she continued. “I wouldn’t back down. Neither would the Wyld Stallyns. We’ve faced bigger challenges and always rise to the occasion. Time for you to rise up, too. If door number 1 is locked, try door number 2.”

  “And if door number 2 is locked?” I asked Little Miss Know It All.

  “That’s what the rogue is for.”

  Right. Okay, I see what she meant. And she’s right. I’ve seen firsthand how the Wyld Stallyns have found themselves in some tight places, grossly outnumbered, and ill-prepared. And yet, they emerge victorious. I can’t imagine the Wyld Stallyns chillin’ at a tavern while an innocent patron gets hassled by a couple of trolls and not doing a darn thing because someone forgot to pack flint and steel. Well, actually I can because sitting in a tavern knocking back a few pints of mead sounds pretty darn good right now, but in the spirit of this experiment, I feign otherwise.

  “Oh, fine,” I sighed. This conversation had already cost me seven of the sixty minutes allocated for working out. I’d have to re-imagine today’s routine. If only I had flip-flops in my car. Okay, fine, I do. I didn’t take them out. Busted. Pedicures happen. On my way outside, I stopped at Nina’s desk.

  “Get your sneakers. We’re going for a walk,” I told her. “It’s a beautiful day. We should at least get some vitamin D.”

  Our walk was peaceful and refreshing and because we had to get back in time for a meeting we walked at a brisk pace. Maybe it was the flip-flops or maybe it was the speed walking, but dare I say I could feel the beginnings of some deep muscle soreness. Nice! Good thing my plans for the night included sprawling on my couch and feeling superior.

  THURSDAY

  TAKE A REST

  Crazy day! I was on my way to work when I saw a school bus topple into a ditch and flip over! Even crazier was that the bus was filled with meerkats and sea otters on their way to the Seattle Aquarium! What choice did I have but to pull over and save them all! I’m a hero! Hooray! Got to go! The mayor is taking me out to dinner.

  Okay, I lied. It’s just that nothing really good happened today. Maybe I’m getting used to this whole living-life-by-the-seat-of-my-pants thing?

  Oh, and I had popcorn and a pack of butterscotch Life Savers for lunch. On second thought, let’s hope I’m not getting used to it.

  FRIDAY

  AND THEN AN EXTENDED REST


  When the phone rings before 7:00 a.m. or after 11:00 p.m. it’s never good. That’s why I choose to let it ring. And ring. And ring again twenty minutes later. Why wake up just to hear bad news? This, my friends, is reason number 529 why you should not put me down as your emergency contact.

  When I roll into work, my boss spins around in her chair so fast she knocks a stack of Game Day kits off our shared table.

  “Easy, Tiger!” I said cheerfully. It’s amazing what thirteen hours of sleep can do for you.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she asked. “I’ve been calling you!”

  “That was you?” I asked, secretly glad I didn’t answer it. I don’t like answering work questions when I’m here, let alone when I’m knee-deep in slumber land. “Sorry. I thought it was an emergency.”

  “Umm, it was,” she said. “You missed two meetings. One of which you were presenting at.”

  “Oh. Did I?”

  “There you are!” my friend Bre said. “I was so worried!”

  “Worried about what?” Jeez. I thought it was just a meeting about marketing tactics. “I’ll e-mail you the presentation.”

  Bre grabbed me by the shoulders. “Because Judy hacked into your brother’s Facebook page and posted an APB on his wall. You didn’t call her on your way to work and you didn’t answer your cell when she called. Apparently she’s been calling you all morning.”

  “Really?” I asked, digging around in my desk drawers for some oatmeal. Part of busting out of my routines means calling Judy at random times during the day. “I didn’t check my phone.”

  “What the hell?” Laura asked. She’s really not into this whole missed meeting thing. “Were you at the doctor? Did you get a flat tire? Were you held hostage by a band of Labrador puppies? Where were you?”

  “I was tired,” I told her calmly. “And needed an extended rest. This whole week of living like an adventurer has taken its toll on me. But the good news is I feel invigorated! It’s like I got all my daily powers back!”

  Laura and Bre stared at me. Probably marveling at my glowing complexion and the bright whites of my rejuvenated eyes.

  “I’m going to call Judy,” Bre said, walking away.

  “It’s 11:45,” Laura said. “You missed two meetings, one presentation, and forced your mother to post an AMBER Alert on Facebook. You’re three hours late and when you finally do roll into work you claim your tardiness is due to needing an extended rest?”

  “Did you know that your cells produce more protein when you’re sleeping? And can bolster your memory?”

  “Good,” she said, but I wasn’t getting a sense she was entirely impressed. “Now you can remember to set an alarm.”

  I called Judy.

  “You are a BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPING BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP,” she screamed, after hanging up with Bre on the other line.

  “Jeez, Judy,” I said. “Loosen up.”

  “What the BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP is wrong with you? I thought you were dead!”

  “Nope. Just sleeping.”

  “I’m going to BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPING kill you! What were you thinking?”

  “What was I thinking? That our morning routine is like a big hunk of Gouda,” I said calmly. “And I took your advice and moved it.”

  SATURDAY

  NEVER LEAVE A DUNGEON UNTIL YOU’VE EXPLORED EVERY CORNER

  Yay! The experiment is officially over. It’s a beautiful day, Windex-blue sky and warm breeze and I plan on spending it at Safeway stocking up on veggie burgers and carrots. I can barely contain my excitement!

  Before I got to the frozen food aisle, I saw a picnic end cap. Wine, baguette, wheel of brie. Roasted red peppers, macaroons, grapes the size of ping-pong balls. What a great idea! I buy everything on the end cap and drive to Bart’s house.

  “Get in the car!” I told him. “I’m taking you on an adventure.”

  “Okay!” he said. So agreeable it’s almost like he’s expecting me.

  I raided his cupboard for the items Safeway didn’t think to include on its display—paper plates, napkins, and those cheap wine glasses we got when we went to Woodinville for wine tastings. If it was a week ago, I’d have these things in my car.

  We rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, and cranked up the air conditioner. I didn’t have an idea of where to go, just a picture of what we’d see when we got there. I kept driving until we couldn’t go any farther because Puget Sound spread out before us.

  “We’re taking a ferry?” he asked.

  “I guess so,” I answered, getting into the lane the attendant is pointing to. “I wonder where this one goes to.”

  Forty-five minutes later we arrived in Bainbridge Island. It’s the stuff postcards are made of. Seriously. I have the postcards. We spend the whole trip on the outside deck, asking tourists to take our picture in front of the diminishing Seattle skyline.

  “Make sure you get the Space Needle in there,” I told a woman wearing a Green Bay Packers sweatshirt.

  “Where are you from?” she asked as she handed back my camera.

  “About seven minutes north of the Space Needle,” we answered.

  Bainbridge is a lovely destination, with the town center clustered nicely within walking distance of the ferry terminal. We drove past tasting rooms and shops and cafes and coffee houses until we found Battle Point Park.

  “Nice place for a picnic,” Bart mused.

  “Funny you should say that,” I answered, opening the trunk. Even Tabitha wouldn’t be that prepared.

  After our picnic we found a trail and went on a long, leisurely hike that left us hungry again. We headed back into town and grazed on asparagus salad and vegetable cassoulet at Cafe Nola.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Bart said. “I feel like I’m on vacation.”

  I, too, felt that way. I’d been rocking that carefree, everything’s-just-as-it-should-be feeling all day. The mortgage was paid, the iron was turned off, and I wished my friend a happy birthday. Yep, everything was as it should be.

  “So let’s stay,” I said, then looked around to see who said that.

  “What about Sadie?” Bart asked, referring to his aging sweet pit bull. “And that four-legged demon who takes up residence at your house?”

  Ah yes, Zelda. Maybe absence will make her heart grow fonder.

  Not to be deterred I came up with a solution.

  “Jodi has your spare key so she can take care of Sadie, and Zelda has more than enough food to last a night.”

  Seriously. Who’s talking?

  “But you don’t have your provisions,” Bart noted. “We don’t even have toothbrushes. Let alone a place to stay.”

  He said this but I can tell he’s already sold. If Jeff Probst came into the restaurant right then and offered to whisk Bart away to a deserted island with nothing but a bandana, he’d do it. An overnight in a resort town is a cakewalk.

  I was about thirty-nine steps from saline solution. I’d be okay.

  “I guess we could stop at a drugstore,” I said. “It’s Bainbridge, not Burma.”

  And I was okay. What made our spontaneous trip to Bainbridge Island so much fun was just that—it was spontaneous. We hopped on a boat with nothing more than picnic supplies and debit cards. What more could an adventurer need?

  “You know,” Bart said as we cracked open our second bottle of wine, “You couldn’t have planned it better.”

  I agreed. So much so that I insisted we make one final stop on our way home.

  “To the hardware store,” I instructed. “We’re getting you a copy of my house key.”

  While I respect R&D’s attempts to outfit adventurers just starting out with basic gear, the standard adventurer’s kit is missing quite a few essentials. Yes, I know, not everyone has a bag of holding, so space is limited. If you really want your character to be able to survive any situation, and more important to enjoy themselves, swap out R&D’s essentials for my essentials. You’re welcome.

  R&D’s WAY SHELLY’s W
AY

  Backpack TSA regulation-size roller bag. Hey, if Southwest says you can have 24”, you take 24”.

  Bedroll This sounds suspiciously like a sleeping bag. Why on Earth would I need a sleeping bag when I’m staying at the Westin? (Hello! Heavenly Beds, anyone?) I don’t care how portable these things are, they take up way too much space and will never be as comfy-cozy as a cashmere eye mask, travel throw, and pillow case.

  Flint & Steel Ridiculous. You’ll never get that past TSA. Ditch it and use the space for a couple of paperbacks.

  Trail rations Yes, definitely. Here R&D and I see eye to eye. Never leave home without several varieties of PowerBars, bottled water, gum (Orbit Sweetmint; lasts all the way to your first connection), trail mix (the kind with M&Ms in it, not the “healthy” kind), soy jerky (oh, fine, have beef if you must), Nutter Butters cookies (they’re hardy and won’t crack under the pressure of two tons of toiletries, not to mention they’re delicious), Popchips (several varieties), pretzels (braided; keep it real), and cocoa roast almonds, for example. See why a stupid fanny pack wouldn’t work?

  Belt Pouch OMG-a fanny pack?! Call it what you want, but if it walks like a duck and makes you look like one from behind, it’s a fanny pack! This is not okay in any realm, R&D! No. Just … no.

  Rope This is not a terrible idea, actually, although I much prefer bungee cords.

  Sunrods My dad, also a master of preparedness, goes to the dollar store every year before Christmas and stocks us up on essentials like rain ponchos, amber vision sunglasses, and these little key chain flashlights. They may be smaller than a tube of lip balm and cost less than a dollar, but man, those things are mightier than those annoying HID headlights that always seem to follow me home from work. I have night blindness, people! Anyway, my dad’s dollar flashlights are way more practical. Can you hang your keys on a sunrod? I think not.

  Waterskin Besides sounding like something Hannibal Lecter would wear to bed, a waterskin is just plain ugly. Get yourself a nice, stainless steel BPA-free water bottle instead. Happy packing! But remember, no fanny packing!