Today it was brought to my attention that I have a student registered for my class who has yet to attend -- and we're more than halfway through the term. Somehow, he was able to add after the deadline, and didn't know where the class met, so he hasn't been there yet. My department is less concerned about what I do with him than they are with what bureaucratic mess let him register for my class in the first place.
So I attended Friday's Rays game down at the Trop, as I do every Friday when we're at home. For the uninitiated, Friday nights at the Trop mean $5 tickets (formerly $3, but with free parking this year, I can deal with the increase) and $1 beers. Of course, the $1 beers are only served in the bleachers, so the sight is a bit odd for a Friday newcomer, as the stadium will be completely empty in the main seating, but sold out (3,000 full) in the bleachers, which are entirely set off from the rest of the ballpark, requiring a lengthy walk to reach them.
So I met up with my usual crew of bleacher creatures, but there was a disturbing influx of redneckery on Friday, as wandering bands of cowbell-banging hillbillies terrorized the yuppies and teenagers pouring dollar Budweisers down their gullets. One attractive brunette was bounced by a St. Pete cop for reasons unknown, and the whole environment was just... disconcerting. Plus, the Budweiser tasted like what I imagine the mystery fluid being pumped into the soldier in white in Catch-22 is, so I decided to r-u-n-n-o-f-t.
Around the fifth inning or so, I took my leave and made my way to the section behind home plate, where I chomped on salted peanuts and jabbered with the Rays cheerleaders, a new addition to the Tropicana Field experience. That's the trick about the new Rays era: the renovations to the Trop are far from complete. Every game I've attended this year (which is now seven) has presented me with some kind of improvement: a touch of paint here, a new flatscreen TV there. In less than a month we'll have our live aquarium in center field, which will attract a total of zero new fans, but will be pretty cool to look at.
Anyway, I sensed danger and scooted out of the Trop at the top of the ninth, with the Rays down 4-3. I arrived at the L.A. Hangout a half hour later, finding it was STILL the ninth inning, and we were now down 13-3. Rays Baseball! Watch Us ... blow every chance to win.
Anyway, I'm still busy, and I swear to you, faithful reader, that once Summer A ends, I'll recap everything in my life, with pictures, from Opening Day onward.
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