Two
Forty-eight hours to the big happening and I found myself sitting in the parking lot of Covenant Seminary waiting for Joe and a pair of old jumper cables.
The morning had sent Puck and myself to Forest Park where he was meeting his Sunday School class – a whopping three kids – to explore the Zoo with their go-get-em teacher. And because of course the entire park was already packed by 11:00, Puck and I found one of the last spaces left, half a mile away, and started the long trudge around a humid jungly forest; nice stuff. On the way, Puck hunted treasures: scraps of bright red pottery.
Some time later, he found a pile of inner city friends about five years his senior, hopping around the fountain rock pile together. Naturally he introduced himself and listened happily to the boys’ conversations:
“Hey! Who just got my twenty dollah Nikes wet?”
“Not me!”
“He did it!”
“They only fifteen dollahs, man!”
Anyway. When Puck met up with his Sunday School buddies, I walked the half mile back and started driving for Beaumont to help set up the reception. Halfway down 44, I heard the job was already done, so hit 270 towards someplace I could hang out for awhile.
Straub’s for a sandwich and grapefruit Izze. I’m not sure I’d been there since college. Drove over to seminary and an empty parking lot to eat the late lunch, rolled down the car windows, before driving down solo to the game. That was the plan anyway.
But plans change. Turns out I had left the lights on and killed the battery, in a remarkably fast amount of time. I called Joe, who was bringing El Oso’s truck back anyway after moving stuff to the apartment. He pulled up, we hooked up the cables. The truck died. Of course. Another phone call. Mom and Carrie-Bri to the rescue. Both cars resurrected. Joe took the truck to El Oso. Carrie drove the Fit home to finish prepping Rose for the bachelorette party where Irish was waiting for Cherry to drive the family mini van down from Iowa City. And then Mom and I hit the stadium.
When I ordered this game back in December, I didn’t know it would take place two days before my brother’s wedding. But on a balmy sun-streaked evening in late May, it was time for a good live game. Mom and I watched success, sitting next to our ten-game buddy “Uncle Rico” one seat over. If anyone ever modeled Napoleon Dynamite’s uncle in looks and mannerisms in actual real-life form, this guy fit the ticket.