golf ball hail at the baseball game

It would have been so much more ironic if the hail would have been baseball-sized, but golf balls do a lot less damage to my already damaged and dying car, Jessie the Jetta, so I will be thankful instead of disappointed at the lack of rhetorical device.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It all started last week when a guy came into my office at work offering a Texas Rangers Ticket Package. I resisted his first offer by lying that I had forgotten my purse (which I highly doubt he believed), but when he left I was extremely bummed that I didn’t take him up on the $40 offer, being the wanna-be Texas Ranger baseball buff that I am. So when he came back the next day with a female reinforcement just in case I “forgot my purse” again, I could not refuse. I redeemed two of my “free” tickets that very day, planning for roommate Torie and I to attend the game the very next Tuesday.

Yesterday I rushed home from work to prepare for our roomie outing. Torie and I filed out to the old Jetta, her’s being way newer and less paint-chipped than mine, and made our way to Arlington. Being as poor as young people in starting positions usually are, Tor and I searched for the cheapest parking, which is practically synonymous with furthest away. It was quite windy and I admit that a flowy dress was not the wisest choice on my part. Our seats were great! Made me a bit nervous though, being right behind the big yellow pole that determines whether the ball is foul or fair. I forgot my glove. Won’t make that mistake again. I could just picture the ball flying toward my head, my black and blue deformed face being on the news…

All seemed to be going fine, except for the occasional burst of blusterous wind, until Torie and I started getting all of these panicky texts from friends and family about the oncoming storms. Different clouds appeared from all directions–beautiful, yet a bit unnerving.

Respecting the wishes of our worrying mothers, we left our seats and headed for shelter, just in time (moms always know best). Torie hardly had time to rush back to our seats to grab our forgotten souvenir cup of Coke Zero before the rain began to spill. Being some of the first to take cover, we found refuge at a coveted spot near the benches and got comfortable, knowing it might be a while before the game resumed play. When the rain started coming down harder, wind still as strong as ever, it felt like we were at a Wet N’ Wild with water splashing our faces and bodies like a water ride every minute or so. Moving places, we found an empty bench where we could see officials leading people into the underground tunnels. Were Torie and I nervous? No. Were our moms nervous? Was Torie’s phone buzzing off the hook with texts from her sweet boyfriend’s family and friends worrying about her? Were the other women at our table freaking out a little bit that they weren’t being asked to go into the tunnels too? Yes. Yes. Yesssss. We couldn’t help but laugh!

When the warnings of hail, tornadoes, and end of the world were finally lifted and the game restarted, we were too tired from sitting to go sit and watch the game on wet seats with the threat of more game delays on the way. We trekked the five miles (which, thanks to the storm, now consisted of lakes, lagoons, and swamps) back to the car. I felt like I was Annie Oakley or Fraulein Maria traveling up the grassy hills in my blowing dress. Lightening streaked the skies, wind tried to push my little car into experiencing what the different lanes of the road felt like, and we were pretty sure we saw what looked like an explosion to our left, but we made it home, safe and sound.

The end.

Anyone else have as exciting time in the weather?

Katie

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