My friend hoodyhoo just returned from vacation which included an I'm sure very boring baseball game. She made me think of the one and only major league ball game I've ever been to.
In eighth grade we went to see the good ol' Toronto Blue Jays at Skydome for our graduation trip. If you've never heard of them it's because they haven't won a game since the early 1990s.
The whole class was seated behind one of the bases. I don't know which base. Are there three? Maybe the second one. Yeah, behind base number two.
Anyway, it was surely the most boring thing I've ever witnessed. Throwing fuzzy peaches at your eighth grade ex-boyfriend can only entertain a person for so long.
At some point we realized that our classmate Collin was way up in the nosebleed section. WAY up there. I don't know how we knew that. Eighth graders didn't have texting devices in 1998.
But there he was. Sitting and waving from the upper atmosphere. And of course this was a friggin GENIUS idea.
So off we went. Wandering up through the ballpark as high as we could. I don't remmeber much of the trip. I must have been too lightheaded to commit it to memory.
Once we got situated and waved to our friends, some douchbag Ball Cop found us and asked us what we were doing away from our seats.
Wtf? There was nobody - not a single soul - up there. And those seats cost, what? Three, four bucks?
Perhaps we should've explained that it was just for fun. But we were too chicken. So we did what any reasonable fourteen year olds would do.
We lied through our fuzzy-peached teeth.
We claimed we were looking for our friend Michael - Michael who was the ultimate dork and didn't even come on the trip in the first place. But for some reason his was the first name that came to mind.
We said he was lost and we were worried about him.
The lie seemed to work, until we were walking behind the Ball Cop down the layers of walkways, with him on his radio searching for a weird kid with high jeans and shaggy hair.
Yeah. It was like a park-wide search party.
So what did we do?
We lied. Again.
When we got back to our bleacher level, we raced down the steps, ran up to a random kid in our class (Jacob) and whispered for him to play along. Then we started yelling: "Michael! Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!"
He half-smiled with giant question marks written across his face while we nervously waved away the Ball Cops with a thumbs up. I have no idea if they bought it or not.
This is the kind of antics I got into as a kid. The dorky loser kind.