With the spring 2013 baseball season in full swing (hee-hee), I hope you’ll enjoy this repost from one grateful but frugal grandma.
A few years ago my husband Gary and I took our grandson Mikey to a Seattle Mariner’s game.
Oh my, he was excited and I was determined to milk every moment of my super grandma status for all it’s worth!
I had pried my purse strings open, painful as that is for me to do, and actually purchased tickets to something.
After our arrival to the stadium and trudging up step after step to the nosebleed section, I soon realized that maybe I should have pried a little harder on those purse strings. Sometimes you do get what you pay for and this was the case here. The nosebleed section is called that for good reason. Honestly, I thought I may have heard the “Sound of Music” playing off in the distance. I felt we were on a Swiss Alp, Bavarian kind of hike and I started to frantically search for oxygen. In my opinion, the stadium could make a small fortune renting oxygen tanks to cheap grandmas. Thank goodness we eventually collapsed in, I mean arrived to our seats.
But just as soon as those bats started crackin’ things quickly got to a fever pitch and I couldn’t help but get caught up in all the excitement. I must have been delirious from all the action and lack of oxygen because I grabbed the grandkid and announced to my husband I was off to get some eats, a giant finger for Mikey and a $6.00 beer! Good Lord, would the madness never end! Off we went, one lucky grandkid and one blessed grandma.
After dropping more than a buck or two at the concession stand, we collected all our booty and began the long hike back. While making the climb I happened to notice people were staring at me. I thought I was looking nice but I must have been looking real good that day. Wow, maybe they thought I was Mikey’s mom. Climbing, carrying food and sucking in my gut and double chin at the same time was quite a feat. But, with each step my confidence grew almost as big as my head.
Finally we were to our row and had only to squeeze by several people, who looked thrilled to see us coming. As we continually excused ourselves while slipping past fellow spectators, the stares continued and I’m sure I was flashing a smile here and there to all my admirers! Then when we were almost to the safety of our cheap seats, it happened. There was some very nice, possibly also oxygen deprived woman, who felt compelled to let me know, “Excuse me ma’am, but your fly is open”.