At four p.m., I finally get a break, but Tranbarger must now rehearse for the following night's show. Time it takes to transition from volleyball court to stage: two minutes. The show, named Utopia, is heavy on acrobatic circus moves, and Tranbarger and three fellow GOs are practicing a sort of body tower that falls somewhere between a game of Twister and the National Cheerleading Championships. Still unleashing sweat from volleyball, I watch as Tranbarger and the head circus GO, Mac, support the weight of two female GOs in this convoluted acrobatic contortion and think to myself, "He does everything."
A half hour later, we have to rush over to the sailing area to greet the return of the day's sailing armada - Tranbarger is in charge of sailing too. He has a brief spat with the sound guy over the choice of music (Tranbarger wants reggae, not Joan Jett and the Blackhearts) and sends him off to round up some Bob Marley. Once the catamarans arrive, we break down the amp and roll its 100 or so pounds back to the storage area and sprint off to soccer, which we are now late for. Since I happen to be wearing a Brazilian soccer jersey, the guys are expecting big things from me. That could be a problem.
We join the game midway through and make an immediate impact. Without getting into international politics, let's just say that I split two defenders from countries where soccer is much more loved than in the United States and put the ball in the goal. For a brief moment, I feel like Ronaldinho (must be the jersey). Then, I crash. My feet fall flat. My shin splints start acting up. My labored breathing sounds like that of a smoker in a deprivation chamber. My body is simply done. Tranbarger? Yeah, he's still going … and going … and going, just like the Energizer battery.
By 6:20 p.m., we get a brief respite for a shower. As far as the day goes, I have played more sports today than I have ever played in a single day, and that includes field day in elementary school. I hit the shower, but what I really need is a rehabilitation center. We have about 50 minutes before we're due for cocktails to celebrate the grand reopening of the pool. I'm so spent, the thought of even lifting a fruity cocktail sounds like moving mountains.
From there, it's all a blur. We go straight to dinner, which is followed by the week's sports medal award ceremony and then by the evening's show, the International Revue. Tranbarger plays an African tribal dancer, an Egyptian pharaoh, a Swedish dancing queen, and some sort of Frankie Goes to Hollywood male revue dancer, and he excels at each of them. My only comment by this point is unprintable here.
The show ends at 11 p.m., and we're now going on 14 hours. I'm deep into the reserves of my personal power supply. But it's not time for bed; it's time for even more rehearsal. And, no, I'm not kidding. Tranbarger spends the next two hours rehearsing, while a raging party is going on 50 yards away at the main bar. I struggle to hold my eyes open.
At 1:30 a.m., he finally finishes. Time to call it a day? Of course not; it's time for shots. Apparently, some rules were made to be broken - as, I discovered, were (nearly) my bones.