One of my aunts often gets annual passes to Dodger’s games. On occasion she’ll give some tickets to my grandma, to go to the ball game. One time, she took me and told me to invite a friend, so I invited the only person I figured would be interested; Steve. I believe the conversation went something like this:
Me: Steve. We’re going to a Dodger game this weekend.
So we went to the game. When we arrived, the conversation was something like this:
Steve: Woah. These seats are not even close to nosebleed! I’ve never sat this close!
Me: I know, isn’t it awesome?
The problem with taking me to a sporting event is that I have very little focus, and without the commentator to tell me what’s going on, I either have no idea what’s happening or I forget to pay attention to the game. The problem with having good seats is that occasionally, a ball that went astray will land in your section. That makes for a dangerous conversation.
So at one point, while Steve and I are not paying attention, a fly ball whizzes right over my head. I’m talking, I felt the wind move my hair. I could have been dead. My eyes got all big and round and I turned and looked at Steve and said, “Steve, if I die here today, please make sure they put something cool on my tombstone. None of that “beloved daughter and friend” crap, okay?”
“Oh Yeah, Baseball Game…”