Hair's to Ya

We aren’t really sports people, but we do follow the Boston Red Sox, so we made our annual trek to their spring training park, an easy birthday gift to My Guy.

  

        First stop is always the team store, packed to the gills with stratospherically-priced merchandise and even more packed with people panting to buy it. 

 

Exhibit A, this woman’s fleece with World Series Champs embroidered on it, thereby shooting the price up to over $100.

          If I’m going to a ball game, I’m NOT, I repeat NOT sitting in the sun, particularly Florida sun. Fortunately, I’m the ticket buyer and have learned to check to see which seats are guaranteed shaded before I order them. And they were great – good view of the field, totally shaded, and on the end for easy exits. This also meant we stood up umpteen times as those in the rest of the row came and went, came and went, but it was really no bother. 

          What was a bother was the shapely blond, whom any Hooters would have been proud to employ, sitting in front of me. She didn’t curse at the team or block my view. I’m not even sure how much she got out of the game, since she spent much of it checking her texts, and even looking at cute cat videos.  In fact she wasn’t the problem. It was her looong pony tail that lashed my knees (if only I hadn’t worn shorts) with every expressive flick of her head as she flirted with her companion.

          
 

 Still I guess I was better off than the guy on my left, who acquired extra roughage with every sip of his beer.