Third Base Line, Just Past the Bonobos.

 Last Sunday I was finally able to get to the new stadium. I should have been there two weeks ago, but the highway bridge on my route to the stadium was closed unexpectedly when the southbound lane dropped into the river.

 After what seemed like a decade long controversy about how the facility was going to be paid for, funds were made available from the closing of a mental healthcare facility and the cancelling of some infrastructure contracts, and the stadium was opened for business. The early reviews were glowing

As I got to the gate, I showed my ticket to the attendant and asked him for the quickest route to my seat. 

“You want to get in that line there,” he said, pointing to his right, “and turn sharp left when you get off the rollercoaster.” 

“Rollercoaster?” I replied. “I don’t want to ride a rollercoaster. I came to see the game.” 

“Are you sure?” he said, a little puzzled. “It’s a double loop.”

“No, I just want to get to my seat.”

“Hmm. Okay then, go up those stairs, turn right, and walk straight until you get to the Orangutan cages. Hey Jimmy?” he said turning to the attendant at the next gate. “Is that a Starbucks or a Checkerberry across from the Orangutan cages.”

“It’s a Starbucks, but those aren’t orangutans. They’re bonobos. The orangutans were moved over to the other side of the kayak pool.”

Turning back to me, the attendant continued, “So, after the bonobo cages, take the elevator that looks like a hot air balloon. Get off at the upper deck.”

“Upper deck? My seats are ground level, third base side.”

“Don’t worry.  Zip line-7B will take you right to your section.”

At this point I was unable to keep my frustration in check. “Zip lines, hot air balloons, bonobos, rollercoasters! I came to watch a game. I just want to get to my seat without the amusement park experience. I want to walk to my seat.”

I noticed a perplexed look come across the attendant’s face. “You want to walk there? How about swimming, or tubing? The river goes completely around the stadium.”

“Walking,” I demanded. “I want to get there by walking.”

The attendant pulled out a barely used map of the stadium and, after some head scratching, laid out a plan of attack. The plan soon proved too flawed to be of any use. Since the map was created, new rides and attractions had been added, turning former paths into present dead ends. It soon became apparent that if I was to ever find my seat, the game would have long since ended. Passing by an Abercrombie and Fitch outlet store, I noticed a small crowd of people huddled together and staring off in the direction of the field. Much to my delight, they had found an opening in the midst of the shops and bars and restaurants big enough to see the game. I squeezed in among them just in time to see the final three outs of the game.

Despite all of the hype about the new state of the art stadium, I was not impressed. Maybe I just couldn’t appreciate the new spectator experience, which seemed to have less to do with spectating and more to do with avoiding spectating. Giving in, I took the next inner tube to the gate for the parking lot. I was eager to get home and forget about my experience at the new stadium. I was close to getting home when my trip was delayed by stopped traffic. It seems the road crew was up ahead pulling a Fiat out of a pot hole.