This past Sunday we had tickets to the Milwaukee Brewers baseball game, and let me tell you this, I’m sooooo not interested in baseball. In fact, since the Brewers have gotten the new stadium, Miller Park, I’ve only been there twice before. I can’t even begin to tell you how many tickets I’ve given away because I just did not want to go.
So my husband survived the downsizing at his job, and as a celebration he and others from his department were treated with tickets to their company’s suite at Miller Park. Tickets to the luxury box? Oh yeah, I’m totally going. I didn’t care if I didn’t watch any of the ball game, but I was going for the experience.
Parking was prime, and then once we found our suite — which happened to be on the field level right behind third base – I settled right in to life in the luxury box. The suite was like a hotel, and who wouldn’t want to watch a sporting event live from their own hotel room? There was wi-fi, there was our own potty, and best of all there were bottles of wine. DECENT WINE. None of that Little Penguin crap. I poured myself a glass of cabernet sauvignon, and okay, so I couldn’t find a wine glass and I had to drink out of a plastic cup, but I lived.
My daughter was busy filling herself up on potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies. Seeing as she wouldn’t touch a hotdog to save her life (can you blame her?), I called the concierge to see if I could order her a kids meal of chicken fingers. SURE, they said, WE’LL SEND YOUR ASSISTANT OVER WITH IT.
My what? My Assistant? Well, okay.
Sunday’s paper was waiting in the luxury box, so while the crowd cheered I read all my favorite sections: Cue, Entree, Business, and Metro. My husband and I have this thing where we try to guess if the house of the week in the Entree Section will be either IN DOOR COUNTY or NOT IN DOOR COUNTY. We both picked Door County this week, and the house wasn’t, so we both took a drink.
Next thing I know the assistant is there (My Assistant?) deliverying not one, but two huge pizzas. The first thought that came to my head was DID I ACCIDENTALLY ORDER PIZZAS WITH THE KIDS CHICKEN FINGERS? My Assistant assured me that I did not, and then handed me the kids meal.
Okay, how come I never got one of those kids meals whenever I went to the ballgame? It was in a paper bag with comics on it and came with chips, Oreos (more cookies!), a juice box, and a Topps baseball card for some Suppan guy that I’d never heard of. (Even though I’d never head of him, I had to admit that the baseball card was pretty cool.)
During the 7th inning My Assistant came in and boxed all of the food up into containers so we could take home any leftovers. She even labeled the boxes with what was inside too.
Lets see, we had visitors in the luxury box: Bernie Brewer, the mascot, stopped by for a visit! And a face painting lady came around to paint the kids faces too.
Midway through the game some of the people who were sitting outside got up and came into the suite, so we moved from the indoor bar area to the outdoor seats. That was when the game started to get pretty good. I don’t know what got into me, but I even stood up and cheered the team on when the bases were loaded and someone hit the ball way out into the field and no one caught it!
The game was tied 4-4 after the 9th inning, so it went to extra innings, which meant we got to see NOT ONE, but TWO Sausage Races.
We left at the top of the 13th, the score was still tied and there was no end in sight. Of course, as we were wandering around in the parking lot trying to remember where we parked, the Brewers hit a home run and won the game! We missed Bernie Brewer sliding down his slide, and the fireworks too.
I’ve decided that maybe the ballgame isn’t so bad after all, but what I really want is the life in the luxury box. Now that, I could totally get used to.
