Well, a burst of creativity has hit me. It didn't hit me when I wrote that last post, but maybe early September. I was trying hard--in my head, at least--to finish my book by the end of the summer. And yet every time I pulled it up on the computer, I just couldn't...write...anything. It was very sad. And then by some crazy miracle, at the *end* of the summer, just to make sure I couldn't actually complete it in the summer, the creativity set in. I've been writing furiously since then and...the end is in sight. Another couple of small hurdles, I think, but...wow. Yay. (and for the question weighing heavily on EVERYONE'S mind: close third. Had to be.) And it's one of the reasons I haven't blogged: I really am abusing my wrists and some nights they scream, all my exercises notwithstanding.
So what to talk about? Chilean miners? Facebook movie? Screenwriting? None of the above?
I just read another blogger's post that said you shouldn't blog about (a) your writing or (b) yourself. No one wants to read it. Well, hmm. I don't live a crazy life of adventure, and the few developments with one of my screenplays (and there are some!) are best kept private for now. I don't want to jinx anything. So what can I post about? The Yankees?
I got limited season tickets for this year, and I got to go to 11 regular games (plus a few additional that I bought) and that
side note: why does my "autosave" keep failing?
Anyway. My season tickets were a fantastic investment. A great time. I have the drill down, which gate to enter, how to exit quickly and with a minimum of crowd-fighting, where to buy the hot dogs. Yes, reader, I eat them. I know it's appalling. So the regular season is over, but I also got first dibs on buying ALDS and ALCS tickets! And in half an hour, I can purchase (still-not-definite) World Series tickets! I have a timer set on my computer so that my limited attention span and short-term-memory will both be reined in. So I went to the first-home-game ALDS (good thing, since they only played one--a sweep!) and on Monday will go to first-home-game ALCS. I am nervous about Texas, I admit. They have Cliff Lee, and Cliff Lee seems to be the Yankees' daddy. (Pedro Martinez weeps)
Anyway. Let me spice this up a little bit with an amusing story (or so I thought, as did my friend Peggy) from the ALDS game.
I got tickets for the third tier. Exciting, as I've never sat that low before. (I'm poor!) But it turned out that we were in the *last* row of the third tier. Well, the seats were still fine. Off the third base line, which was a completely different perspective from my season seat. But after a little mental adjust, all was well. We also found ourselves right in a wind gust. The stadium is ventilated with large openings in the outer wall and one happened to be right behind and above us. I think my leather jacket and scarf would have been fine without the wind, but with the wind it was really chilly. Every time the wind actually came in, it was downright cold. Jeans are not great protection against wind, by the way. But the excitement carried us through. The wind, however, plays a part in this story.
We sat in front of two (separate) pairs of friends: two guys and two women. The women kicked the story off because they'd gotten garlic fries, which should really be renamed HOLY CRAP THEY'RE GARLICKY fries. They had a few each and quickly realized they couldn't handle any more. So, kickstarting a multi-row camaraderie, they offered them around. I had a few, had the aforementioned HOLY CRAP reaction; Peggy had a few, to the same; the guys had a few. Guy #1 then went to buy a soda and some peanuts, and since we'd broken the ice, he started offering us peanuts. Raw peanuts aren't my favorite, so I only took a couple. Peggy took a couple more. We ate peacefully (got nachos, too, which were disgusting...and yet we ate them. Happily we did not get sick.), enjoyed the game. Five innings pass, during which the Yankees play very well. Victory is in the air.
Then there's a commotion two rows down. There are 2 couples, one in their mid-twenties and the other in their mid-forties. The woman of the mid-twenties couple, attractive and very Bronx, is angry, standing and yelling at Peanut Guy. What's happened? Well, peanut detritus is all over her back. She's furious. I mean, furious. Peanut Guy apologizes profusely, but it's not good enough. She continues yelling. And then her Drunk Friend gets into the action. Drunk Friend also has some peanut detritus on her back and in her hair, and absolutely will not accept any apologies or explanation. Perhaps he wasnt' groveling enough? Drunk Friend stands, starts pointing her long, fake, Yankees-painted fingernails in Peanut Guy's face. Her repertoire of phrases consists mainly of two: "Grow up!" and "Be a man!" with the occasional "Asshole!" thrown in. After not too long, Peanut Guy is sick of this woman and her Yankee claws, and starts mocking her. She huffs up the stairs and leaves. For a moment. So Peggy and I are laughing hysterically, and I point out that we've gotten peanut detritus on Peanut Guy, too. She leans forward and mentions that to him--just as Yankee Claw Drunk Lady comes back down the stairs. "Oh no!" he screams. "I've got peanut shit on me, too! I'm going to die!" And just as YCDL seems to have a rather limited repertoire of phrases, he switches into that mode, too. He's *yelling* this, over and over, and writhing and pretending to cry. YCDL is more angry and huffs up the stairs. This time, her husband decides to go after her. As we're on the last row, I hear their conversation. (Why can no one go past two phrases in this story?) "We're going now." "Relax." "We're leaving." "Relax." "Let's go." "It's the sixth inning! Relax!"
Peanut Guy disappears for a while. YCDL goes back to her seat. And Peanut Guy returns with FOUR bags of peanuts, which he hands out--to me and Peggy, to the six-year-old boy and his dad next to us, to the Garlic Fries people, and he offers a bag to YCDL. And Peanut Guy encourages us to get peanut crap on him. The six-year-old naturally takes him up on this inviatation, crushing his peanut shells and blowing them onto Peanut Guy; setting peanuts on Peanut Guy's head; placing crushed peanuts in Peanut Guy's hoodie. Peanut Guy is having the best time of his life, I think, shouting about how he's melting and going to die because people got peanuts on him.
Final straw for YCDL, who picks up one-two-three-FOUR empty beer cups, takes her Young Bronx Friend with her, and the two depart...for the Mohegan Sun Sports Bar. Their husbands remain. Peanut Guy says to his friend, "Look at 'em. They've never been happier in their lives." And that might have been true. Peanut Guy hands them a bag of peanuts, which they gratefully accept. Husbands and Peanut Guy share phone numbers and a promise to go out for a beer some time.
After YCDL and YBF leave, no more drama. Phil Hughes pitches 7 shutout innings, Kerry Woods allows only one hit, and the Yankees sweep the division series.
May my ALCS ticket (Monday!) provide as much satisfaction!