Well, yesterday was a fun day. We went to the ballgame of our favorite college team. We had free tickets. Note that I said, “had”, because somehow, in the parking lot, I lost one of said free tickets. Mind you, these were the $55 variety tickets, and they were pretty good seats. I sure hope the person who “found” my ticket had fun. No, actually, I hope he or she had to sit between two loud, obnoxious, overweight people who took up more than just their seat.
We ended up buying two more tickets off a lady on the street. She said she needed the money for her Visa bill, but I don’t know or really care what she needed the money for. I just wanted to see the game, and we got a really good deal on the tickets – paying $80 for both tickets, on the – no lie – 50 yard-line. So, in the end, losing the ticket was just the low point in the day, not the worst thing in the universe.
Later, at the game, which was a blow-out win for our team, I went to the concession stand during the 3rd quarter. On my way back, there was a media timeout, and the overhead speakers were playing the theme from Ghostbusters. I was happy, we were winning after all, so I was sort of dancing my way back to my seat whilst climbing the stairs.
I walked by a gaggle of older men, probably in their early 60s, and one of them was trying to sing along to the song. Just as I walked by, he said, “I’m the Ghostbuster!” Then, he said something I’m sure we’ll be talking about at my house for years to come: “I’d like to bust your ghost!”. I just shook my head and said, “I bet you would,” and kept on going.
Nothing like getting hit on by an older man after losing my ticket, buying new great seats, during a blowout homecoming game in my favorite college town.