I had a very nice evening at the Cardinals game tonight. Sorry, Delena, but the Dodgers lost.
The most interesting part begins something like a bad joke:
A priest, a blogger and a normal person walk toward the concession stand. Out of nowhere comes a guy in a motorized wheelchair, and he is booking. That is oldster-speak for "he was making good speed." He blows right through us. The blogger, remembering he is with a priest, restrains his tongue. But before he can say anything else, a golf cart whizzes by with the horn blaring. On the cart are an usher and a security guard. Neither is what one would call svelte. It, too, blows right through the group. The security guard yells, "Stop that guy! Stop the guy on the wheelchair!"
Now I do want to clarify one thing. I said the wheelchair and the golf cart were going fast. They were, considering they were a wheelchair and a golf cart. If either the guard or the usher had hopped off of the cart, he would have caught the wheelchair guy in three seconds. Picture George Costanza being chased by the seniors on their scooters.
I would be lying if I said we made any effort to catch this guy. I think we were too stunned by the whole affair. And, of course, there were refreshments to be had. We moved on.
After we returned from the concession stand, one of the other ushers triumphantly told us that the speedy wheelchair guy was nabbed.
And in this manner, the danger to the local populace was averted.
Cards won, 6-1.