How You Can Tell if I'm Losing my Shit

I’m so happy to see baseball season here again!  I’ve been to two games so far, Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon.

This year, I resolved not to make the mistake of buying tickets when they first go on sale.  Every time I do that; when game day comes, it’s crappy out.  So this year I vowed not to buy any tickets until I’ve seen a weather forecast.  I went Wednesday because it was the first game after Opening Day and I was pretty antsy to go see a game.

It’s funny… Opening Day drew a sellout crowd… 44,000-plus people.  The very next game?  Not so much.

Attendance announced at 12,600. Most were dressed as empty seats.

What a difference between the first and second games of the year.

I had a nice spot, 1^st row of the upper deck, behind home plate.  But it was cold and windy and I was rapidly having less fun as the night went on.  With the Orioles up 4-1, I made a break for it in the 6^th inning and was home in time to watch the end.

Sunday, I saw it would still be cold, but sunny.  Game time temperature was about 48.  But I bought a seat where I knew I’d be in the sun the whole time; 3^rd row up from the left field wall.  It was fun and I got on TV again.  (I’d run the picture but due to my Orioles hoodie, I’m only identifiable as a big orange blob.)

These two games were the first times I ever tried to use the “iPhone Wallet” app.  When I got my tickets, I had the options to print or add to Wallet app, or both.  I did both, for a couple of reasons.

First, I wanted to try the Wallet app because it’s the new shiny thing.  And it’s easier to deal with than trying to fish the paper ticket out of my pocket.  I have to have my phone out of my pocket anyway, when I go through the entrance metal detector.

My e-ticket from Sunday.

But I still like to have the paper ticket for the souvenir and for tradition.  Having both means of ticketing allows me to have a backup system in case something goes wrong, like if I lose the paper ticket or my phone runs out of juice.  (I won’t even consider the possibility of losing the phone.)

As you may know, I keep all my stubs and after the game, record the score and attendance on them.  Sitcom Kelly and I have had extensive conversations about my ticketing quirks, for example, that I don’t like printing paper tickets (although not so much that I forego the convenience of buying tickets online over getting standard cardboard tickets from the box office). 

The paper tickets are printed on a full page; then after the game, I cut out the “ticket-shaped” portion for permanent storage.  I always print them in color too; the better to simulate a traditional ticket stub.

Last summer, Sitcom Kelly and I were going to a game and she ordered our tickets online.  When she gave them to me, she said, “Sorry, there’s a fold in the ticket.”

I said, “That’s OK, I’ll smooth it out with the iron when I get home.”

I was totally joking, but she never even questioned it.  She just assumed it was just another one of those weird things I do.  She’s so used to all my strange habits and quirks; she figured this was just one more.

It cracked me up because it made me wonder what exactly I’d have to do in order for my friends to think I lost my marbles.  See, it wouldn’t be the normal stuff… It’d have to be on a whole different plane.

So as a public service... or rather, a personal service, here’s a list of ways you can tell if Bluz’s elevator is no longer going all the way to the top:

• You see him eating vegetables with more than one syllable.
• He only takes one trip through the buffet line.
• He watches PBS.
• He finds his car in a crowded parking lot, right away.
• He turns on a Top-40 radio station.  Or any radio station.
• He books a trip to a third-world country.  On purpose.
• You hear him say, “No, I don’t want another drink.”
• He says something nice about the Baltimore Ravens.
• Wears an item of clothing without mojo implications, on game day.
• He answers the phone when the caller ID says “Unavailable.”
• He approaches a stranger and starts a conversation.
• He goes for a drive.
• He turns on a golf match on TV.
• He opens the hood of his car, without jumper cables or windshield washer fluid in his hands.
• He puts small, decorative pillows on the bed.
• You see him cleaning behind a large appliance or piece of furniture.
• He’s jogging.

Please; if you should witness this or any similar activity, please summon a representative from the Charm City Home for the Bewildered.