The Oakland A’s have a “Tuesday Night Free Parking” promotion. So, being the cheapskates we are, Rick and I decided to head over to the game last night after a devastating session at Hometown Buffet. As the crowd was pathetic (an announced 10,125, but not even close to that number) our nine dollar tickets got us decent seats not far from the A’s bullpen.
We were taking in the game when Rick recognized Dave, a sixty-something supervising usher and former colleague. Dave came over and we all started talking. Soon the conversation steered toward the days when the stadium allowed access to the upper level. (Two years ago, the club decided to tarp over the highest level of seats, due to the fact that hardly anybody, other than people getting high, like Rick and myself, would sit there.)
“Oh man,” Dave said, “it was a real nightmare patrolling up there. Kid’s were smoking and everything.”
“I’ll bet they were even smoking dope,” I chimed in.
“You're right, they were,” he replied, his light blue eyes bulging like distended marbles.
“Damned druggies,” I added offhandedly.
Dave gave me an approbatory nod and said goodbye to the two of us. We enjoyed the rest of the game unmolested.
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