Dear Three People:
Yesterday, Duty and I went to the Nats vs. O’s game at Nationals park. I cannot remember the last time I was at a baseball game. Once I found hockey and its non-stop action, everything else is like slow, drawn out torture and I say “what’s the point?”. Yet, I found myself suggesting this because he loves de baseball and I’m nice. Having little or no interest in the game itself frees one up to notice all the peripheral action going on around oneself. And so, I share these ruminations with you. (I know my Cubs loving Gal will have something to say on this topic!)
Good lord! I am now completely sure people attend baseball games just to eat the crap food. (I know I did. Rock on Five Guys!) But the amount of food eatin’ I saw blew my mind. And it was often the same people I saw running to get it. Up and down the steps they go, coming back with beers, nachos, hot dogs, more beer and popcorn. Not to mention the VERY LOUD gentlemen toting all kinds of drinks and food all over the place. (How they do it, I have no idea but they were all rail thin so perhaps that’s the secret to skinniness.) I had 1/2 a burger, some french fries, one beer, some popcorn and yes, the horrible fried dough. (I got a very, very bad look from Duty for getting that. He said “Do you need that?” to which I countered “Does anyone ever NEED fried dough? No. So hush up.” YEESH) He did because he was the one who ate most of the hamburger, fries and popcorn. I did sorta regret eating it though. The first two bites were yummmm and the rest was like “oh man, this powdered sugar is getting all over me and ewww.” Plus, $6 for fried dough? What a rip.
Despite that it was both local teams and it was their once or twice yearly match-ups with each other, the crowd couldn’t have given less of a shit if they tried. Maybe I’m used to hockey fans or something but this was sad. Back in the day, when I was an O’s fan and went to many games (and listened to many more on the radio), the crowd was so into it. What the hell happened? It was a boring ass game (2-1 final) but honestly, why pay $40/ticket, 40 more in foooood just to sit there and be all chill? I don’t get it.
I don’t think I venture out in public very much because, as with the David Cook show at Towson, I noticed the large amount of boobage on display. Am I turning lesbian because I notice this now? (NTTAWWT, of course) I am more inclined to believe that chicks are into showing it more now. And what’s the point of getting all tarted up (and in high heels even) to go to a baseball game where your boyfriend will ignore you to drink lots of beer and half-heartedly cheer on some team or another?
I am pretty sure I’d be snagged by Clinton & Stacey for dressing in a slovenly fashion (Tshirt, jeans, sneakers and a baseball cap) but it was pretty comfortable. I was not raised to believe that heels and a dress cut down to THERE was appropriate for a game. Then again, who am I to say, hey? As a side note, excellent (and I mean EXCELLENT) arm pornage there. I amused myself by looking for the best arm porn of the evening and found it in a military guy. Very nice indeed. Made me glad he was busy running up and down the steps to fetch food. :)
Finally, the metro ride home. Here’s the recipe for hell in a tube:
*Take one introvert already on overload from enormous stimulation (and sadly, not the good kind either)
*Add to it 20 million people (give or take)
In a separate dish, collect the following:
*metro car filled to bulging capacity
*Duty yipping loudly for me to COME HERE! and I said NO (because I was making my way to a space where I could hold on to the rail above me), him yipping even MORE loudly “I said COME HERE” (and btw, WTF?) to which I yelled “I’m looking for a rail to hold on to” and then I cussed not very quietly. (Don’t push me peeps. Just sayin.)
* my fear that my deodorant has failed me and I’m killing the poor guy to my right
Slowly fold that into your main bowl, steep for fifteen minutes, then drive twenty minutes out of your way for a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee only to find it is closed and drive forty more minutes home.
TA-DA! HELL! Hell, I say!
And that, my three friends, is how you create Lisa’s personal hell. I don’t think I’ll be attending any more games this summer. I can stay home, eat whatever I want, pull up videos featuring arm porn deluxe and revel in my solitude.
I am officially old.