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Miller Park Gone Wild (or Life Outside of the Luxury Box)
A few weeks ago I wrote of my experience watching the Brewers game from a luxury suite. Today, I will be writing about my experience in section 203. On Friday night we had tickets to go to the game, again with my husband’s department at work, and I didn’t get the tickets to see where we were sitting until we were on the way to the game. Section 203. Well, I’ve already admit that I don’t go to the game very often so I had no clue where these seats were. My mom, who was sitting in section 437, in the upper deck, informed me that I was on the field loge level, and that I had “good seats”.
She was so wrong.
As we walked around the stadium, in search of section 203, we passed home plate, first base, and the outfield. Huh? And then we came to Section 203. The bleachers. The freaking bleachers.
Are you kidding me? I can’t sit in the bleachers. I realize that coming from the luxury box the only way to go is down, but this is the bottom as far as I’m concerned.
We found row 10, and needed to get to seats 6, 7, and 8, but they were in the middle of the row and the people who were on the end offered to just scoot on down. So they scooted down, Zoe sat down first, right next to a guy in his 20’s who had clearly shaved his legs. The (drunk?) girl in front of us then turned around, stroked his legs and said to my 7 yr old: YOU PROBABLY THINK HE’S A CRAZY MO-FO.
Whoa. Did she just say “mo-fo” to my child?? So I said to her: CAN WE NOT SAY MO-FO TO MY 7 YR OLD PLEASE?
I think she gave me an eyeroll, whatever.
Then a very drunk guy comes back to the row in front of us, and as he trying to get back to his seat, the (drunk) girl notices that his fly is down — and then she reaches inside his fly and pulls out his privates. Right there in section 203, row 9.
But wait, she wasn’t just about public nudity for others, she whipped out her breast for a group photo, which I think my family may have been in the background for.
My husband got security, and then we left the section, watching the game instead from section 437, chair hopping among the 20-some seats that my family was in for my grandmother’s 82nd birthday celebration — where life wasn’t quite that of a luxury box, but at least everyone was properly clothed and no one used “mo-fo” in a sentence to my kid.
Life in a Luxury Box
This past Sunday we had tickets to the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game, and let me tell you this, I’m sooooo not interested in baseball. In fact, since the Brewers have gotten the new stadium, Miller Park, I’ve only been there twice before. I can’t even begin to tell you how many tickets I’ve given away because I just did not want to go.
So my husband survived the downsizing at his job, and as a celebration he and others from his department were treated with tickets to their company’s suite at Miller Park. Tickets to the luxury box? Oh yeah, I’m totally going. I didn’t care if I didn’t watch any of the ball game, but I was going for the experience.
Parking was prime, and then once we found our suite — which happened to be on the field level right behind third base – I settled right in to life in the luxury box. The suite was like a hotel, and who wouldn’t want to watch a sporting event live from their own hotel room? There was wi-fi, there was our own potty, and best of all there were bottles of wine. DECENT WINE. None of that Little Penguin crap. I poured myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and okay, so I couldn’t find a wine glass and I had to drink out of a plastic cup, but I lived.
My daughter was busy filling herself up on potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies. Seeing as she wouldn’t touch a hotdog to save her life (can you blame her?), I called the concierge to see if I could order her a kids meal of chicken fingers. SURE, they said, WE’LL SEND YOUR ASSISTANT OVER WITH IT.
My what? My Assistant? Well, okay.
Sunday’s paper was waiting in the luxury box, so while the crowd cheered I read all my favorite sections: Cue, Entree, Business, and Metro. My husband and I have this thing where we try to guess if the house of the week in the Entree Section will be either IN DOOR COUNTY or NOT IN DOOR COUNTY. We both picked Door County this week, and the house wasn’t, so we both took a drink.
Next thing I know the assistant is there (My Assistant?) deliverying not one, but two huge pizzas. The first thought that came to my head was DID I ACCIDENTALLY ORDER PIZZAS WITH THE KIDS CHICKEN FINGERS? My Assistant assured me that I did not, and then handed me the kids meal.
Okay, how come I never got one of those kids meals whenever I went to the ballgame? It was in a paper bag with comics on it and came with chips, Oreos (more cookies!), a juice box, and a Topps baseball card for some Suppan guy that I’d never heard of. (Even though I’d never head of him, I had to admit that the baseball card was pretty cool.)
During the 7th inning My Assistant came in and boxed all of the food up into containers so we could take home any leftovers. She even labeled the boxes with what was inside too.
Lets see, we had visitors in the luxury box: Bernie Brewer, the mascot, stopped by for a visit! And a face painting lady came around to paint the kids faces too.
Midway through the game some of the people who were sitting outside got up and came into the suite, so we moved from the indoor bar area to the outdoor seats. That was when the game started to get pretty good. I don’t know what got into me, but I even stood up and cheered the team on when the bases were loaded and someone hit the ball way out into the field and no one caught it!
The game was tied 4-4 after the 9th inning, so it went to extra innings, which meant we got to see NOT ONE, but TWO Sausage Races.
We left at the top of the 13th, the score was still tied and there was no end in sight. Of course, as we were wandering around in the parking lot trying to remember where we parked, the Brewers hit a home run and won the game! We missed Bernie Brewer sliding down his slide, and the fireworks too.
I’ve decided that maybe the ballgame isn’t so bad after all, but what I really want is the life in the luxury box. Now that, I could totally get used to.
Potty Break
Last night was the Storm the Bastille 5K. We all ran: my brother, sister-in-law, nephews, my husband, and myself. My brother, who didn’t even train for the race (unless you are including the Beer Run last month), finished in something like 28 minutes. He sucks. My nephews finished around 31 minutes, and I think my sister-in-law finished soon after.
What about my husband and I? Well, we were deep in the Third Ward, around the 2.25 mile mark, when we both need a potty break. I could probably have finished the run, but he pretty much said: either I walk it in, or I find a bathroom. So we sneaked into a coffee shop on the route and used the potty, then continued on with the run.
I can’t believe we stopped to use the bathroom mid-5K. I guess there is a first time for everything.
Running Partner
Over the past few weeks I’ve been running outside, rather than running on my treadmill. My dog, Maisy, has been my running partner. She does pretty good actually, and I’ll bet we ran close to 15 miles last week, only taking Wednesday and Sunday off. Perhaps you’ve seen us running through the subdivisions off of Lilly and Hampton?
The only problem with running with my dog is that I don’t want to push her, and in order to make sure she stays properly hydrated, I bought one of those Camelbak packs from REI. It’s not the big one that goes on like a backpack, but rather a smaller one that actually I wear like a fanny pack and the water bladder rests on the small of my back. Surprisingly, it holds 48 oz of water, and Maisy is pretty good at drinking it straight from the hose like it’s a bubbler.
Tonight Maisy and I were getting ready for our run, and I don’t know if it was the water pack that got Zoe so interested or what, but she decided to come along with us. I thought about just doing the 3/4 mile loop through my subdivision, but she was doing so well that I keep on going my normal route and in all we went about 2.5 miles. Sure, we didn’t go super fast, and we walked here and there, but I’m so impressed that my 7 year old actually did it! Our pace was slow, due to the walking, as well as I tried to teach her not to burst out full steam ahead.
Even though we both had our iPods on, she talked the entire time. Over time she’ll learn to concentrate on her breathing, and maybe not talk so much, or maybe the talking will turn out to help her. Personally, I can’t really talk when I run. Anyhow, normally I’d have dropped Maisy off at the house and then gone out again by myself to do another loop, but it was getting late so I didn’t this time.
Thursday night I’ll Storm the Bastille with my husband and my sister-in-law. My brother and my nephews are supposed to be running the 5K too, but we’ll see, they changed their minds last year. This run is my favorite run of the year. I’m really looking forward to it!
6-4, 6-4, 6-7 (5-7), 6-7 (8-10), 9-7
OH. MY. GOD.
I spent my entire day glued to Wimbledon’s men’s final between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. It began at 8 a.m. CST and ended around 3:15 p.m. CST. It was very VERY exciting! It was around 1:15 p.m. when I thought for sure that the match would finally be won by Nadal, then Federer came and won the set. HE WON THE SET!!! And we had a movie to get to. So we went to the theater, and what do you know? THERE’S A BIG SCREEN HD TV and THEY’VE GOT WIMBLEDON ON!!
However, it’s now 1:59 p.m. and I did not anticipate another rain delay, nor how long the games were playing and I had only set my DVR to record it 30 minutes over the pre-set end time of 2:00 p.m. I was screwed. There was no way I’d see the end of the match now.
So we went into the movies, and at 2:45 I popped out, just to, you know, see who won. AND THEY WERE STILL PLAYING!!! They were in the fifth set and someone had won 6 games, the other had 5 games. Well, I figured it would be over within minutes, so I stood behind the curved sofa they had set up in front of the TV. When the score tied to 6-6, I took a seat on the sofa, and when it went to 7-7? Well I made myself comfortable since I knew I wasn’t going back into the movie until the match was over.
It was hands down the best men’s final EVER. And I’m not sure, but I think I was only one rooting for Rafa, mostly because I was the only one who stood up and cheered when he won. Me, in my Wimbledon t-shirt, stood up and cheered for a sporting event in the middle of the lobby at the movie theater. Then I picked up my purse and ran back into the movies.
I Superan
Last night my husband and I ran the Superun 5K. It’s through Lake Park, and this run is challenging, but we love it anyways. Our times? Well let’s just say that we finished, and our times sucked. I hadn’t run in over two weeks, and my husband (who finished around 22 minutes last year) ran at my pace (which is no where NEAR 22 minutes).
It did not rain, and there was no beer on this race. It’s was all sunshine and hills.
The next 5K is Bastille Days, which is in July and is my favorite one of them all. I believe my brother, sister-in-law (Red), and nephews will be running it too. That’ll be interesting. My nephews, who are 14, are now taller than me. They’ve got loooooooooooooooooooong legs and I’m willing to bet that they are going to sprint to the finish line.
Speaking of Red, I found out that she joined a triathlon class this summer, thinking that it would teach her the skills necessary for if she’d ever want to do a triathlon. Well, guess what, the class is ACTUALLY GOING TO DO A TRIATHLON. Yes, that’s right. She’s doing a triathlon. I think it’s a great idea, I wouldn’t want to do it — maybe one of those mini tri’s though, I could handle that.
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