Several months back I thought Hmm, I think me and the little lady might like to take in an M’s game sometime in May. I looked at the schedule. Hey, decent seats are available for the game May 12th against the Yankees. It’s a 7:00 game on Saturday so that means we can leave Portland late Sat morning, drop off the boy in Bellevue with plenty of time to spare, and then arrive at the ballpark with no worries. It’ll be great. Awesome, even.
As I should have foreseen when I bought the tickets, the weekend as planned got away from me. I did not realize at the time that Sunday the 13th was Mothers Day. As the kids say, my bad. What was going to be a nice little trip up to Seattle to see a baseball game quickly ballooned into two separate Mothers Day brunches (Sat and Sun) and an afternoon of helping my parents get ready to move. Yay for carrying heavy things and going to the dump! I got to drive north out of Portland at rush hour on Friday instead of Saturday morning, so that was big plus too.
On top of it all the game sucked: the Mariners were out of it by about the 4th pitch, and it never felt like they were coming back. Plus I missed the only runs the Mariners scored because of the mental defectives operating the Papa Johns pizza concession at Safeco. A tip for the management: if your two primary products are pizza and beer, is it not likely that your patrons will often want one of each? You operate six cash registrars. Operating those registrars on Saturday night were five 16 year old girls, and one very old guy with a cane. The young ladies were prevented by law from selling beer to anyone. As such, the old guy pretty much was responsible for every transaction. The line moved slower even than you might think. Also, the first time I was in line it turned out that the credit card machines were not working. A sign or announcement to that effect before I pointlessly waited 15 minutes in line would have been much appreciated.
The best parts of the game were the beers before it with the Chiefs Educator and Bride who happened to be at same game, and the drinks with them afterwards in their hotel’s bar. And discussing with them the articles of clothing that are shared by the CEO and the CFO.
The drive back to Portland was uneventful, except for the hour long tantrum the boy decided to throw. He really, really, wanted to be at the HQ already. I had the Suby up to about 90 from Longview onward. The CEO’s mouth: I’ll have you home soon, Stinkboy! CEO’s brain: if I don’t kill the lot of us. We made it home safe and sound, and now get to face a new week. Or at least part of a week: we leave again for Seattle Thursday so that we can fly to L.A. Friday so that on Saturday we can attend the wedding of two people I don’t really know, then fly back to Seattle Sunday morning so I can drive to Portland Sunday afternoon. Fu. . . . n
