.....................

OK, the resort down here is nice, and there's no internet in the room, which is kind of like going on a spaceship and there's no potable water in the capsule.  We're in the office, which reads 35:50 remaining logon time on the stern little clock that obscures about 10% of the monitor.  I have zero confidence that this connection is even going to save my work to the Klat server, and less than zero willingness to try to e-mail the text if it doesn't, so... you ever see a chess geek stumbling around in the alley drunk?  Here's your chance to find out, as it were.

As thin as this $20 computer's patience might be, Cindy's is probably thinner ... you'll pardon the receipt of an e-greeting as opposed to an SSI post?  Quick!  Type down before Cindy wanders over to read!

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=== The Stadium ===

The fit and finish of this place is WOWza.  The rails, the beveled pads in which the rails are seated, the seats, the sod, the ambience... if Cheney were 40 and Safeco 95, I'd give this an 85 or 90, anyway.  Cindy?  Would you say this is closer to Safeco or Cheney?  "Oh, it's better than Safeco."

Quick food review.  I'll guarantEE you that my hot dog was available last year also.  Dr. D's hyperbole is not usually serious, but his post-game gastro upset was very.  Serious, that is.

We tried ... sampled, now ... a hot dog - old Kingdome.  Hamburger - same.  Gyro from a trailer out back - Puyallup fair.  Twice the meat it needed, Hidden Valley ranch on it, not bad.  Funnel cake - the fair.  Pizza Hut  from a trailer - worst piece of Pizza Hut I've had.  Got a cup of coffee - virtually room temp.  It's nobody's fault.  Just saying - the stadium is SupaFine, the food prep areas minor league.  Whatever.

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=== Siddown and Shaddap Already ===

We filed in and sat down in the second row, above the walkway, even with 1B.  There were six guys in the first row in front of us, on the aisle, all 30-something and 40-something, all very athletic, none of them very big.  You got it.  Ex-ballplayers.

Four of them had on the same set of khaki shorts; all of them had declarative Chicago Cubs MLB (TM) gear, including gargoyle sunglasses and all the trimmings.  They kept their voices pretty low, so I had to strain to make out what they were saying to each other.  But about the third inning, Cindy asked me "So, no radar gun, no pitch count, no nothing?  How do you know how many this Cubs pitcher has thrown?"  The oldest guy leaned back and smiled at her.  "A lot!"  Is that a technical term, I muttered good-naturedly to him, cracking up him and his friends.  Hey.  I'm cool with the scouts.

I kept my voice super low so as not to annoy them.  Nothing worse to a scout, than a shlub fan who talks like he knows what's going on.  Cindy often refers to me as "Dr Detecto" at ballgames and I was hoping against hope she wouldn't in this case.  The crowd is hardcore baseball intense at these games and I'd hate to see a riot.

But at one point I mentioned to Cindy that Ichiro was way in on a feeb Cubs hitter and three of them turned their heads and raised their eyebrows.  Great, a chance to have some fun...... Have you known me so long, amigos?   >:->

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