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For some reason the tiny slip of paper that sits alongside my ticket stub from June 11th, 2004 is sorely lacking for information. While I had written that the event in question was indeed a minor league baseball game between the Ottawa Lynx and the Syracuse Skychiefs at Ottawa’s Jetform Park (information that is also gleanable from the stub itself), I make no mention of who I might have gone to the game with, nor do I indicate the final score.
While unlikely, it is possible that I went to the game alone but of course it is impossible for a baseball game to end without a score (zero-zero means extra innings, playoff game or not), so I’m inclined to think that I did indeed attend the game with someone(s) and there was in all likelihood a score of some sort with one of the two teams emerging as the clear winner, and somehow, some force managed to keep me from applying the appropriate information to paper (laziness comes to mind).
Which is really too bad, because I have no idea who, why, or how I went to this game. I could spin a tale of sitting in the near-empty stands sipping ballpark beers with a half-dozen friends and even scrambling (in a beer-holding way) for a wayward baseball and emerging with a little round souvenir. A souvensphere if you will (but nobody could blame you if you won’t).
But I think that all happened at a different Lynx game. At least I think I went to see the team play more than once. I’d say that it’s hard to say but as a guy who has all of his past event tickets meticulously arranged in photo albums, each accompanied by little bits of (usually) informative paper, well, I’d be lying. And I don’t want to do that.
But I’m at the doctor’s office right now, waiting and waiting…this guy always, and I mean always makes me wait. Often up to an hour, even (especially) when I’m his first patient of the day. He’s the only person in my life who regularly makes me wait for anything. I wonder if he was late for all of his classes back when he was in doctor school.
One of these days he’ll be so late he’ll make one of his patients late. Come to think of it, he doesn’t have patients, he has impatients.
The point is I can’t check my ticket books right now because I’m stuck in medical limbo due to a guy smart enough to get through med school but so dumb he has a hard time figuring out what the numbers on a digital clock are for. But at least I remembered to bring my computer this time, so I could kill the inevitable wait time typing out this very uninformed ticket story.
One thing I am confident of: to date this is the last baseball game I’ve attended. Oh, I’m also confident that my doctor is a moron.
(Here he comes now, exactly one hour late…just in time, in his own way.)
Todd Man Out 