I laughed as I shovelled another nacho in my mouth. We were again sitting in the section we've affectionately dubbed, "the sewer." Center field at
Just our luck, too, that we always seem to attract the biggest douches in the entire world.
Friday, a week ago, we went to our first game, the home opener against the Mets.
Now, for all you kids who are yawning and eye rolling and whining about having to hear about baseball, I'll spare you the game details, except that John Buck hit a fudgin' grand slam on opening day and it was pure excitement and I jumped up and down like a loser and high fived the guy in front of me with the beer breath and raspy voice. Totally amazing. We also won the game, which sorry to Nuggy about that. She can take comfort in the fact that the Mets won the two remaining in the series.
Anyways, Penny and I found our seats and soon discovered disadvantages to our section. Namely, we were seated directly in front the one kid who made Penny and me cry. On the ride home later, as I was asking if the kid really existed or if it was all a nightmare, Penny said this: "That kid was seriously special ed. Except, he was Hispanic so it's more like Special Eduardo." And I died laughing. Because we are both evil.
So, Special Eduardo and his mother sat behind us just after the game started. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Neither of them seemed to speak English, but again, not out of the ordinary. And then it happened: Mama Special handed her kid a whistle.
Seriously, she whipped out a whistle from her purse and handed it to her son and thus began our torture. At first, Pen and I just flinched. He kept blowing and we started to rub our ears. He leaned forward and started whistling louder and tears were falling from my eyes.
Penny: I have never wanted to punch a little kid until this very moment.
Lor: Are my ears bleeding?
He just kept whistling, completely off beat and with no rhyme or reason. Penny was throwing the most epic death stares over her shoulder. Sometimes he would stop, but only ever for a minute before it started again. One of those times, I nearly jumped out of my seat and yelled, "Oh my God, make it stop!"
I think the mother caught on. Finally. She took the whistle away...
AND GAVE HIM A COWBELL.
Apparently, there was a section in this lady's purse dedicated to annoying, musical, sound makers. If the game where any longer, I have no doubt we would've been treated to a recorder or a freaking kazoo.
Special Eduardo went to town on the cowbell. Obviously, the grand slam and the win, my delicious corn dog and the amount that we giggled made the entire thing worth it, but sometimes when I close my eyes at night, I can still hear that cowbell.
On Tuesday of this week, I found $2 tickets for the Wednesday game and I spend more money on a single bottle of nail polish so it was obvious to me that we had to go.
The game, as I mentioned, was pretty empty. Not even horrendously so, though, because of ticket promotions for that night. Also, as an aside, Penny calls the Washington Nationals the Walgreens because their logos look alike. I just googled this and apparently a lot of people agree with Penny.
The Walgreens/Washinton thing however, was just the beginning of the little association game we played that night. It started with the guy behind us. At first we only noticed his voice. Think monotone serial killer. We both turned around to get a glimpse.
|WTF. Not it.|