10: "Third Time's The Charm"

David Letterman talks about the "comedy rule of three" - that anything is funny three times.  As much as I'd like to say that's not true, experience tells me otherwise.

My number 10 college memory is the time Bethany and I went to the same baseball game three times.

The story begins in late April of 2012, when the two of us decided to go to a Tigers game together.  We chose a night game against Texas, the defending league champions, when Justin Verlander was scheduled to pitch.  And I had front row seats in the outfield.  Basically, it was perfect.

GAME ONE

So we go to Detroit early, get dinner at Hockeytown Cafe across the street and then we look outside and there's a frickin' tornado on the horizon.  I remember texting my uncle and saying "oh, no way they cancel this game...it's fine."  It wasn't.

We waited in the stadium an hour or two before they finally called it off.

The problem was, not only did I lose that perfect situation, but I was supposed to go home the next day.  I was going to get some homework done at my grandma's house before leaving to surprise my sister at her choir concert in South Carolina.  I was on a schedule.  So Bethany and I decided we'd exchange the tickets for a game in the fall.

Well, over my summer exile from society, I still managed to keep tabs on the Tigers, and as it turned out, they were pretty good (albeit not as good as they should've been).  So I picked a date, called the Tigers box office, spoke with someone about exchanging the rainout tickets, and they helped me out.  I had the tickets sent to Bethany's apartment.

They never showed up.

GAME TWO

I called the box office again, and they re-issued the tickets and sent them to will call.

Bethany and I, again, decided to make a night of it and went out to eat (I think at the Greektown Casino).  It was another potentially great night.  We get to the stadium, go to will call.

The tickets aren't there.

Eventually, we find a window that does, in fact, have our tickets and we make it in.  We go and make friends with the people sitting next to us, who are wearing ponchos.

Yep, you guessed it.  Rain.  Another long delay.  We wait in the same place we waited the first time: in the walkway behind the center field fountain.  And waited.  And waited.  Talked to some little kids.  Had a daiquiri.  And they told us to come back tomorrow.

So, to recap: we get rained out, exchange our tickets, and pick the next rainout...five months apart.

GAME THREE

So, the next night, we leave later, eat at the ballpark (no more fancy dinners because I was going broke at this point from the first two) and greet our new friends.

The third game was worth the wait of the first two because, even though they lost (I think), there was this hilarious guy in our section who at one point actually was removed by security before being allowed back in the section.  His crime?  Heckling the opposing team's pitchers.

It was great, really.  The guy actually got a Minnesota pitcher to talk back to him.  Then, when security told him to stop, he started yelling nice things at the pitchers, which pissed off the guards even more.  We were all enjoying it, and pleaded with the guards to leave him alone.

Overall, it was a fun trip.  Although now every time I make plans to catch a ballgame I lose a considerable amount of sleep checking the forecast.