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Wednesday, August 1, 2012

6 Dollar Hot Dogs and a Panic Attack on the Side

Last Saturday the family unit and I ventured out to the big city again for a Twins game. It took us an eternity to actually get packed and into the car to begin our two hour journey. We were staying at a friend's house for one night and we look like we are going on a week long vacation. One dog, two kids, and two adults use alot of crap in one night. Not to mention whenever I leave home I obsess over every scenario that may happen while we are away from home. What if for some reason my sandal breaks and then I am left without a shoe? I better pack a spare.

Because shoes spontaneously combust on occasion, I guess. 

We were finally all loaded up and in the car...and we can't find the keys. The hubs LITERALLY just had them. He drove the car to the store a half an hour earlier. So they were SOMEWHERE IN MY HOUSE. But, when you are in a hurry and can't find something, you panic. You start looking in repetitive locations. You give up and start looking for the spare set. Twenty minutes later my house looks like it has been ransacked by robbers. Robbers with a thing for junk drawers. 

My anger is boiling. I realize accidents happen, and I should NEVER be the one to point a finger at anyone for losing anything. But I was hot and impatient and the poor hubs was the object of my frustration at this point in time. Finally, I just give up on the keys. I don't say a word and start moving EVERYTHING we had packed in his car outside and into mine. Muttering things about lower gas mileage like a jerk.

We pack into my car and I settle my butt down as we are finally on the road and not as incredibly behind schedule as I thought.

Once we arrive at our destination we have just enough time to unpack the car, let the dog stretch his legs, and head out with our friends to the bus station. We are planning to bus to the game to eliminate some the hassle. My kids are STOKED. We don't get out much. Public transportation ranks right up there with carnival rides. Sometimes being a bit sheltered has it's perks.

Once we get to the game, we are running slightly behind schedule, which for a control freak like me, doesn't sit well. Operation FIND OUR SEATS is under way. Well...eventually we found them. Oh boy did we find them. We kept climbing stairs up, up, fricken WAY UP and there were our seats. The top row of center field in the top seats of the stadium. Holy shit. My knees are jello at this point. I am sweating. I am gripping the side of my seat hanging on for dear life. These seats are packed in STEEP. All I can picture is a trip and a fall to my death below. I had no clue the intensity of my height phobia until this very moment. I turn to the hubs and say, "I can't do this." He says, "Oh, you'll be fine. Relax." Cue voice getting slightly higher pitched, with a splash of insanity. "You DON'T understand. I CAN'T do this." My eyes are freaking tearing up at this point. My vision is getting blurry and I can only focus on things close to me. If I look into the outfield at what appears to be my perfectly manicured grave, I will lose it. I tell the kids we are going to get hot dogs. The hubs says that we can go and he will wait for us. I tell him I am frozen. I can't do it. I am slightly hysterical. He rolls his eyes and leads his pack down the steep stairs to freedom. I take it one step at a time only looking at the stairs in front of me. I have a death grip on the railing. When we get down onto lower ground I breathe a sigh of relief. There is no way in hell you are getting me back up there. I told the hubs I would be happy as a clam to just walk around with the kiddos checking out the game on random patios.

Once I collect myself and spend a fortune on two hot dogs and three sodas, I meander over to the spot where my hubs has a pretty good view of the game. There are folding chairs lined up on the edge with awesome views of the game. There are two chairs empty, and my hubs had been talking to the Twins game attendant standing in that location. No doubt laughing at my expense. Not that I care. I still can't believe my reaction. He actually agreed to let us sit there. This is awesome. I stood with the hubs and the kiddos each took a chair. We ended up being right next to where the mascot comes up and does photos with people, which of course I took full advantage of. We had a great spot! A couple of balls came flying right below us. I leaned against the railing, thanking God for being in a much "safer" location, and enjoyed a really great game. We beat the pants off of Cleveland. Sweet. It's always nice when your team wins and you don't die from a falling accident. I'm clumsy. I know what my limits are. Never again. 

We leave the game in pretty good spirits with two tired children and a funny story at my expense.

Guess what we found when we got home the next day?

The damn keys.

They were in the car.


*forehead slap*

1 comment:

  1. Oh I know how you feel! I hate being up in the nose bleed section because I am so darn clumsy! I swear it feels as if I am about to pass out if I go above the 3rd deck! Glad you got better seats. I hope you found your hubby's keys.