Have you ever gone to a major league baseball game and missed the first seven innings? I have. Fortunately, I had kettle corn, Kristi and Camille to keep me company.
A big group of us went to the A’s/Mariners game on Wednesday night. We got there a little late and headed up to our $2 seats. (My husband, the bargain hunter that he is, got them for all of us months ago). Turns out, it was also $2 hot dog night. I won’t mention any names but one happy couple in our group left their sandwiches at home so they could partake in this fabulous American baseball tradition. As soon as we sat down in the nosebleed section, a few of us girls went down to the concessions area to make the big hotdog purchase. I was actually quite happy to help in this endeavor since I don’t usually watch the game anyway. However, when we got down to the concessions, the lines were like nothing I’ve seen. So we waited. And waited. And waited. And then the hot dogs ran out. And then we moved to another line. And waited. And then they ran out again. And again. And then all of a sudden it was the 7th inning. So we watched the last 30 minutes of the game and went home.
The moral of the story: $2 hot dog night stinks.