Truly Out in Left Field

I have to say that the hardest thing about going to a baseball game is figuring out what the heck to wear. I honestly don’t know how people do it? My lifestyle is such that putting on a gown and going to a social event or theatre outing is far easier than going to Yankee Stadium. I threw a few things on and then off early in the morning as I got ready to go to work knowing that I would need to have an outfit flexible enough to go from work to play with the removal of a sweater. NOT EASY! Jeans weren’t exactly my thing and the silk Ralph Lauren dress certainly wasn’t appearing to make the cut- no matter how many times I tried it on. Crap! I felt my eyes starting to swell up at the anxiety it created to have to pack everything necessary to look like I just threw something on. I wore black pants, a spaghetti strapped top and sandals. It wasn’t exactly right, but it would do.

After struggling with the traffic in every single direction, we finally got to the gate of the stadium where the guy who picked up my bag to pretend to check it for God knows what, commented on it’s weight. I think he was surprised by the fact that inside my purse, there was another smaller purse. I’m not one to go anywhere unprepared and Yankee’s Stadium was no different. What if someone had a computer crash or needed a grounding adapter…or a button sewn on?…I would be able to help tonight. The smaller purse inside was for a quick trip to the bathroom in the event that someone sitting above me was to spill a beer on my head or something. I was ready.

We sat in the Audi Yankee’s Club directly over right field…um…nope…apparently not. I stand corrected. I was informed that it was indeed left field. I wasn’t sure how anyone would’ve known that though. I guess they could’ve described it as “house left” and it would’ve been clearer to me. From where I was sitting, it was clearly stage right field. My “guy” was very patient. In fact, the more patient he was, the more I found myself saying things that would intentionally drive him crazy to no avail. For example, when scurrying from the stadium to the parking ramp, I looked at the cluttered ground and asked, “Why do sports people tend to spit so much more than theatre people?” He didn’t know. I’m still not exactly sure what the answer to that question is but I’m certain it has something to do with all of the hotdogs and beer ingested at the event itself. I’ve never been at a Broadway show where the attendees stood outside screaming in flip flops and t-shirts that enhanced their beer bellies as they forced greasy sandwiches and beverages with foamy topping into their already stuffed tummies. I suppose I would spit right on the ground too in that case.

It was actually a very enjoyable experience though it may sound like a foreign event to me. I had a nice time with great company and it was an experience that I’ve hardly taken advantage of in this lifetime. I hope to get better at it this summer. I’m going to get a few “ballgame costumes”. Maybe a hat, a logo’d shirt and a feaux water bottle that looks like a beer on the outside. I’ll giggle and misbehave, scream and yell at the umpires when they make a bad call, and possibly I’ll even jump out of the stands onto the field and rush a player just to see what the 4 police officers guarding the edge of the field from the possibility of 300 thousand or so game goers causing a riot will possibly be able to do to me? Hey. It’s worth a try I suppose. Sometimes we all need to do something completely out of our own character. Then again, maybe I will simply start small by wearing a pair of jeans next time. I suppose that going as far as to test the officers to see if they will arrest me is going a bit to the extreme!…Of course, it is in my nature to test the water to its fullest extent! I’ll let you know how it goes!…or you can read about it in the papers one day… “Crazy blonde chick in Versace gown storms stage left field in Yankee Stadium: gets tazered by 4 officers as onlookers watch in amazement that the ground crew is still able to get through the YMCA without missing a single letter!”