Someone (probably Zac, because most of our family events originate with him), found a special deal being offered by the Columbus Clippers baseball organization. For $25, you and your party of 10 or more could enjoy all you can eat sliders, hot dogs, popcorn, chips, and cookies, on a private balcony, while watching a Clippers game. How could we not? So we gathered our family of 10, invited Kearstin's boyfriend and his brother to join us, starved ourselves for a day, and headed off to spend an evening of eating. Um, I mean, watching a baseball game.
We found our way to our 3rd floor balcony where food was laid out buffet-style.
Let me just take a minute to clear something up. We don't go to these events looking for trouble, and to be fair, a lot of what happened there that night was unavoidable.
1. We can't control wind. Please.
2. We didn't design the table and chairs to be up against the edge of the railing overlooking right field. Come on.
3. Plates, napkins, and cardboard boxes of popcorn? What were they thinking.
4. Positioning a security guard directly below our balcony was nothing short of entrapment.
Right away, one of our tickets went flying over the edge onto the field and landed beside a player from the visiting team who looked up at me and then slid it into his back pocket. Fine. Keep our ticket and nobody get mad. (Refer back to #1 of things outside of our control.)
So we filled our plates, sat down in our seats, and focused on eating while they played their little baseball game...or whatever. That's when Ron's full box of popcorn fell over the edge of the balcony onto right field. Now, anyone who knows my husband, knows he doesn't go around throwing perfectly good food over the sides of balconies willy nilly. Popcorn weighs like nothing, and refer back to #'s 1-3 of things that weren't our choice. Actually, go ahead and include #4, because that's when Security made us a little visit to let us know that things from our balcony have been falling onto the field.
Dude. We know. We were there.
Before he arrived back to his post below us, Kearstin's plate and Barbara's napkin landed on the field. (Numbers 1-4, people. I can't keep reminding you this wasn't our fault.)
But for the rest of the game, we managed to keep our food and accessories off the field. That is, until 8th Inning when my granddaughter threw her Na Na over the side of the balcony and onto the field. To clarify: A Na Na is a pacifier and it was thrown. Not blown. Thrown.
So bye bye Na Na, right? Wrong. Not only does she love her Na Na, but that Na Na came from Nick's mom's house and she'd specifically told them to return that Na Na...the one currently laying in right field directly below Security...back to Granna's.
As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. So being the good Chuckles that he is, Ron looked up the right fielder's name and began repeatedly yelling at him. "MARK! GET GRANNA'S NA NA!" Of all the things Mark's ever heard yelled at him from the stands, I'm willing to bet this one was the hardest to ignore. But ignore he did, because Mark isn't going to throw away his shot at the big leagues someday to satisfy his curiosity of what a Granna or a Na Na might be.
If right-field-Mark wouldn't get Granna's Na Na, surely the bat boy would. It's like his job. So Aubrey and Nick found their way to the seats behind the bat boy and began nicely asking for this one teeny tiny little favor...pretty please and thank you, walk out onto right field and save Granna's Na Na!
And he did!
Right-field-Mark could really take a lesson on priorities from the true team player.
As for the Clippers baseball organization and their security team...well, they might wanna know that Ron's department decided to host their annual picnic there for their employees. And their family. This Saturday.
We're coming for you, Mark.
And we're bringing our Na Nas.
And we're bringing our Na Nas.