The next chapter in the continuing saga of me, Randy Hinderliter, public offender.

First, to Curtis, I must enact Man Law 37, Section b, paragraph 2: or to be more explanatory, what happens in Sioux City stays in Sioux City! That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Next, thanks Red, I can always depend on you to remind me that I have not only let down the Kansas wrestling community but all the youth in Kansas. I am so ashamed.

I find it funny as I reflect on the lifelong bridge builder. He has built bridges all his life, has countless bridges all across the Nation that are a tribute to his craftsmanship and to define what he is. But let that bridge builder have a momentary lapse in his conduct, just one time, and the rest of life, he will be known as a public flasher.

Even worse, everyone he meets will laugh him at and small children will poke him with a stick. He will always be ashamed and reminded of his transgression … he may ask for forgiveness … but to some … no … he is no longer a bridge builder. But these are the cards that I have dealt to myself. I admit, this one time, I did not live up to my challenge, that of being a positive influence in the live of kids. For that … I apologize.

As you might recall, I did have a hearing with USA Wrestling and a court date as well. It seems someone has made an argument in my behalf. I suspect the man who says “spending a week in Fargo is more fun than a cruise for me,” yes; Barry the barrister pitched my case. USA Wrestling decided that based on the testimony of others, they would let the State of Kansas handle my case. But I did have to forfeit my collection of counterfeit Bronze cards. Further I agree that I must have at least 5 Kansas coaches in the Silver College next year! (hear that Mike Miller)

The next session of wrestling in the Fargodome, I was paged to go to the head table. I climbed the stairs to the podium and said I was Randy Hinderliter! At my announcement, the gal at the microphone echoed, “here’s Randy Hinderliter.” Almost in unison and with military precision everyone pointed their fingers at me and snickered … there was even some out-right LMAO. Me? I dropped my head in shame.

At my court hearing later in the day, the City of Fargo, offered me a diversion agreement. I’m not sure why they had to play the video of my exploits … over and over again. All I could do is bite my lower lip and sign the papers. Part of my arrangement is, I have to walk every sidewalk in Fargo, and find the oldest existing piece. (so far I found a few dated 1947)

I was leaving Fargo a free man, something that the magistrate suggested strongly. But you might recall my financial difficulties are what landed me in hoosegow in the first place.

I was back where I started … but recalled Red’s suggestion that I search the inside pocket of the confiscated trench coat for a lottery ticket. The coat was on a table in the courtroom. I asked if I could retrieve something from the pocket. The judge, the one with the unprofessional laughter, said “go ahead.” I searched the interior pocket and found a few surprises Red had left me. In the pocket was a bottle of strawberry flavored lip-gloss, with glitter, and a pair of black fish net stockings. The stockings had the toes ripped out. Apparently someone with awfully large feet has been wearing them. But I did find the scratch off ticket.

My plan was to only take the lottery ticket but the judge called me back to retrieve the “rest” of “my” stuff. I shoved the stockings and the bottle of lip-gloss, with glitter and strawberry flavor, deep in my pocket. Quietly cursing Red under my breath, I left the courtroom but I was also thanking Red for the lotto ticket.

On the sidewalk in front of the courthouse I took a dime (part of my last 87 cents) out of my pocket and began to scratch. I revealed first, a $500.00, the next was a free ticket, the next was again $500.00,the next $2.00, the next another $2.00. This particular ticket I needed to have three matching numbers. It’s hard to scratch a ticket with your fingers crossed but I managed. Low and behold, I had won $500.00. I danced around and pumped by fists in the air, proclaiming, “I’m a winner, I’m a winner!” My celebration would make any winner at the Greco Nationals proud.

I took my winning ticket into the North Dakota lottery headquarters. I plopped my ticket down on the table and confidently said, “I’d like cash!” The $500 bucks would come in handy, I could pay Juby back, have enough cash to get home on, and have enough to buy a weeks supply of Diet Mountain Dew. The clerk picked up the ticket and said, “this tickets no good.”

My jaw and my heart dropped … “how could that be,” I inquired. The clerk confirmed that I was presenting a valid lotto ticket … but it was purchased at some adult book and novelty shop outside of Abilene, Kansas. “If you want $500 for it, take it back to Kansas” she told me. She went on to tell me my winning ticket had a 1% face value outside of Kansas. I pondered my plight … and told her that I would accept the $5.00.

Clutching the bill in my hand I walked the streets of Fargo. 1999, 2004, 1967 … I thought I would check dates on the sidewalk while I walked. I walked aimlessly for nearly four hours until it was too dark to read the sidewalk stencils. Up ahead I saw some neon lights and before long I was standing in front of Bucks, a local watering hole and casino. I walked in and peered into the smoky darkness. Much to my chagrin, the place was full of USA Wrestling coaches and officials and they were all pointing and laughing at me … some were ROFLMAO.

I stepped to the bar. I was parched and order a DMD. The bartender retrieved my selection and said, “that’ll be $4.00.” I reluctantly un-clutched my hand and the crumpled $5.00 bill fell on the bar. The barkeep handed my back a single, $1.00 bill and then she tapped on her tip jar. My eyes darted back and forth, between my $1, the tip jar, and the bar maiden.

This was the first good look I got of the woman behind the bar. She had jet-black hair, she was kind of attractive in a brutal sort of way, and she had a uni-brow. Suddenly my thoughts were of the snapshot of Waunita and the three redheaded triplets.

I really needed some good karma about now. I dug in my pocket, searching for my 87 cents. I opened my hand over the bar and sure enough there was 87 cents but also the bottle of strawberry flavored lip-gloss, with glitter and the black fishnet stockings. The bartender reached out and as she collected the lip-gloss and stockings she said, “I’ll see that Red gets these back.” I stood there in stunned silence as she again tapped the rim of her tip jar. I scooped up the 87 cents and looked down and watched my coins slowly drop into her jar. I looked up and into the eyes of a big burly man with a uni-brow. I grabbed my soda, my dollar, and walked away.

I walked to a far corner of bar and found the penny slots. I got a dollars worth of pennies and began to feed them one at a time into the slot machine. Time and time again, I fed the machine and pulled the lever. I had not won a thing and looked into my hand and counted 14 cents. If I was desperate before, now I was sinking into despair. I took a penny and kissed it. I looked at it closely and noticed that it was minted in 1955, the year I was born. I put it in the machine and pulled the arm of the bandit.

Suddenly the machine came alive, bells began to ring and lights began to flash. The credit meter on the slot machine read 100, 200, 300, 1000, 5000 when it had finally finished I had won 8,700 credits. I fell to my knees and screamed, “thank you Red!” The matron helped me to my feet and dozens of people, even some wrestling people were gathered around applauding.

I walked to the nearby counter and said I would like to cash out. I was tickled to death as the cashier began to lay $20 bills on the counter; I would me taking home enough cash to make the house payment for a few months. First one, two, three, four twenties and then a five and 2 ones! I must have looked puzzled as I did the math in my head. I then gathered up the $87.00 and headed for the door.

Mike Juby has agreed to accept $80.00 in partial payment of what I owe him and give me a ride back home. I am heading back to Kansas now and we must be getting close, as the thermometer has jumped up to 102 degrees. I’m elated, I have a few bucks in my pocket, I’m going to make it back to Kansas, and the Jubster even bought me a bottle of DMD before we left … I hope he stops soon … it’s getting to be a bit uncomfortable on this side of the van!