Adventures in Baseball...ing(?)

Up close and personal with the 'Bees'

What could be better than taking the kids to a baseball game? After all, we've enjoyed many family excursions as spectators of America's favorite pastime. Monday night will definitely top the list of memorable adventures.

Randy won 4 tickets to see a Minor League baseball game. We decided I would take the older kids and he would stay home with the younger ones. Typically, the roles are reversed. I now see the wisdom in that.



Casey, Hailey, Hannah, and I headed out the door after dinner the other night. After a candy and water stop at Wal-Mart, we were on our way. We listened to Radio Disney in the car and rocked out to Hannah Montana. I exited the freeway when we reached our destination and I was so proud of myself that I didn't need to call Randy and ask which exit to take. We were a little late, and parking was in short supply. But my clever little self spotted a Lowe's nearby. I pulled into the parking lot, ignoring the "parking for customers only" sign. As Casey pointed it out, I rationalized that we would buy some needed Shoe Goo after the game. Unfortunately, the paid security guard didn't buy my argument. Reluctantly, we headed back to the car and wound our way through the crowded streets to find a parking spot. Not wanting to get a ticket, I asked a parking enforcement officer where I could park. He directed me to some nearby streets and we shortly found a spot to leave our vehicle.


After walking the three blocks to the ballpark entrance, I spotted the sign: "No water bottles. No food. No cameras." Let's not have any fun at the baseball game now, people. Not wanting to hike back to the car past Butch and Rocky drinking beer with their pit bull, I approached the nice old lady at the gate. I kindly asked if we could please bring our contra bans inside the stadium. She assured us it was fine, and that those signs came from a different arena. Oh, that's helpful! What is the prupose in that?!


We quickly found our front row seats, right behind the batter and pulled out our goodies. We broke out the camera, took some pictures., and waited for the excitement to begin. I think there were some exciting plays, but all I could concentrate on was the man behind me. About half-way through the second inning, he began talking on his cell phone. Or should I say, shopping on his phone. He and his wife were shopping for a new camera. Over the phone. During a baseball game, for crying out loud.

"The battery life on that one didn't have good reviews"


"That one takes crummy pictures."

"That one has too many mega pixels."

At the bottom of the fourth inning he declared that his phone was stupid, "At 2:30 this afternoon, my phone said it was dying."

Hmmmm, that is strange, because you've been talking on it non-stop for 45 minutes!

By the top of the fifth inning, the rain proved too much for his newspaper umbrella and he left.

We were some of the few left sitting there, in the open, as the storm progressed and the lightning grew closer. After a couple edge-of-your-seat plays, we decided to call it a game.

Casey and Hailey tossed a ball back and forth to each other as we left the stadium. As Casey lost hold of his new ball, it rolled under some seats. He ran after it, but it was too late. In typical Casey fashion, he poised himself in front of the large crowd and announced "Hey, everybody! Look under your seats. I lost my mini ball."

He was successful in obtaining his baseball and we continued on our way.

We hiked the three blocks back to our car where I found a soggy pink envelope attached to the windshield. Seriously. I looked around for a fire hydrant or 'no parking' sign. Nothing. Then I looked at the other nearby windshields. Nothing. It was then it occurred to me. The registration on the Jeep was expired. By one day.

The rain got more intense as I found the freeway entrance (once again, a proud moment.) It was all I could do to focus on the little dashed line to my left. I followed that carefully, hoping I wouldn't cross into another lane. I followed it as it veered to the right- and the freeway stayed to my left. Four trusting cars followed me on my detour. There we were, in the heart of an industrial section of town, winding around on little roads with no sign of a escape to the outside world. For 45 minutes, we searched for a freeway on ramp. Finally, after reaching the city center and regaining my bearings, I was able to navigate my way back home at last.

Tired and wet, I proclaimed that would be the last time I take an excursion by myself.

...without a GPS