My best friend said to me the other day, "You need to get out there.", in reference to me & dating. She couldn't exactly tell me where 'there' is--pesky little detail, that.
Anyway, I live about an hour away from Aiken, South Carolina, which is a lovely, charming town that has managed to retain its small-town southern sensibilities while shrewdly catering to an influx of polo folks from around the world.
As for there, I decided yesterday it was an Aiken Foxhounds game. I reserved a box seat on the Internets and headed on over.
You know what the problem is with activities like this? Turns out all these...people show up. Like the immediately overly-friendly middle-aged guy seated next to me. Who was dressed as if he'd just finished cleaning his garage & decided the next thing to do was head on over to the game. And who also immediately creeped me out*.
Next came the yuppies who were seated behind me. The one couple wasn't too bad-had a baby who was able to sleep through Dad's constant obnoxious remarks to the ump & the home team players. He was for the visiting team. Thanks for sitting right behind home plate, dude. And shut up. The other gal with them who was herding three girls, a toddler & two others in the 5-6 year old range, would.not.shut.up: "Eatyourburgersweetieyousaidyouwanteditnoyou'renotgoingtodrinkallofmommie'sdrinkohdearshedoesn't
getcottoncandy." in the first forty seconds alone.
And the kids were bored. They couldn't see & one of them was bothered by bugs and her sunburn. We know this because of the ongoing whine from her of "There are bugs and my sunburn hurts and I want to go home." every minute or so like clockwork.
So when the two twenty-something guys stuck with a couple of little brothers for the evening showed up at the bottom of the second inning and sat in the bleacher seats to my left & the two younger kids immediately started bitching about the seats & that they were hot & couldn't see perfectly because of the fence...I knew my time was up.
Came home, put on my gown, grabbed a Yuengling Black & Tan, fired up my 32-inch flat screen and reveled in the quiet.
I'm going to give it another try. I scoped out some bleacher seats that looked like the best in the house & I do like a live baseball game. I see this 'there' thing is going to take some work.
*I kind of berated myself about being immediately creeped out by the guy because he was...too friendly. But when he became impatient with the gal who was taking her handicapped sister around, snapping a few pictures of her at the ballpark because they blocked his view for all of about twenty seconds, I mean sheesh. You paid 8 bucks for the seat at a minor league game. A $150.00 seat at the world series, it ain't. Get over yourself, Jerk. Reminded me to always trust my instincts.
taking a break
3 hours ago