Went to the Dodger's game with my sweetie last weekend.
I’m not much of a sports fan but I do enjoy sporting events - mostly for the plethora of junk food available at such venues. I know I'm not alone in my ball game dining enthusiasm because this is where I find my sporting camaraderie. And this is where I start every game.
Concessions.
Now, I'm also not a huge fan of hot dogs, but a ball game without a hot dog is, well, just un-American. So we started out our fun-tastic Friday night dinner date with the obvious - Dodger Dogs and an order of their famous garlic fries. And, since we were feeling proud to be Americans we added some sushi rolls (which were surprisingly fresh and delicious) and German beer to wash it all down. A very nice start, indeed.
Feeling comfortably full and satisfied with our appetizer, we settled happily into our seats (which incidentally were AWESOME!!!! Row 14, Seats A-D, on the 1st base line! Yes, we had 2 extra seats...and just for the record, I had the intention of finding someone outside the stadium to give our extra tickets to...someone that looked as if they could use a spiritual lift...but, I also had to be able to deal with sitting next to them for an entire game. Sadly, my noble plan had a serious flaw - most people that look like they could use some charity also look like I wouldn’t want to sit next to them for any length of time. So, we took the selfish route and lounged our gluttonous asses leisurely across all 4 seats).
Aaaaaanyways.
Once the sun went down it got quite chilly so I wanted something to warm me up.
"Hmmmm...maybe some hot cocoa...or soup..New England Clam Chowdah...doubt they'll have that. Oh, I know! A nice bowl of hot, spicy chili!! They will definitely have that! How could they not?? I mean, this is L.A. Cali is the southwest and its pretty much run by Latinos.
So I wandered up to concessions and strolled The Alley of Crap, searching the menus for chili.
"Chili cheese fries...chili dogs...burritos, tacos, southwestern salads...nachos with nacho cheese but without chili...no chili bowls. NO CHILI BOWLS???? WHAT??? How can they NOT have chili bowls??"
I began stumbling around in a frantic haze of confusion and disbelief...revisiting each concessionaire, inspecting each menu several times before staggering forward to the next. Finally, eyes burning from the strain of repeatedly dissecting each menu, I accepted the verdict.
“Wow. No chili bowls.”
I was overcome with grief, but my will to survive kicked in and I began considering my other options. “Maybe some pizza.” (Pizza is my ultimate favorite food.) "California Pizza Oven. Yuck. Hate California style pizza.” As far as I’m concerned, calling that bready, non-greasy thing is an insult to the Ivy League institution of pizza. It didn’t matter what kind of pizza they had anyways. I wanted a chili-bowl almost as much as I wanted a million bucks...and/or Andre Ethier.
Defeated, I slugged back to my seat and sat back down, now oblivious to the awesomeness of it. I tried to watch the game but my mind kept wandering back to the absolute wrongness of my astounding discovery.
After some moping and mulling, an idea struck me. An idea of such magnitude and brilliant force that it stunned the stadium crowd into a deafening silence of awe and admiration.
I rose, stoically, from my seat and acknowledged The People (who respectfully averted their gazes toward the pitcher’s mound) before setting out a daunting quest - a quest to end the tyrannical suppression of chili bowls at Dodger Stadium.
As I took that first step toward justice the silence broke into a mighty, stadium-rocking cheer. The People were urging me forward. I made my way toward concessions with moral purpose on my mind and chivalry in my heart.
I rose, stoically, from my seat and acknowledged The People (who respectfully averted their gazes toward the pitcher’s mound) before setting out a daunting quest - a quest to end the tyrannical suppression of chili bowls at Dodger Stadium.
As I took that first step toward justice the silence broke into a mighty, stadium-rocking cheer. The People were urging me forward. I made my way toward concessions with moral purpose on my mind and chivalry in my heart.
Once in The Alley of Crap, I quickly located the Dodger Dog stand with the shortest line. The line was still long but The People were counting on me so I had to be steadfast. Eventually perseverence paid off and I neared the front of the line. But now I noticed that some people were walking away without any crap. I don't know what they asked for, but they were DENIED. My confidence wavered but thoughts of disappointing The People held me steadfast, determined and prepared to face The Oppressors.
Finally, it was my turn.
I took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter.
"Chili cheese fries, please. Hold the fries. Please?...Pretty please?"
The cashier looked at me blankly for several seconds before furrowing her brows, tilting her head and walking away from me. She walked over to consult with another cashier. They whispered secretively, occasionally peering in my direction. I smiled the friendliest, least intimidating, sheepish-est smile I could muster. They stared at me.
I felt very uncomfortable.
They whispered some more. Then in one sudden and swift burst of motion they disappeared through a pair of swinging doors into the Dodger Dog Dungeon of Divinity where I imagined they were holding court with a bunch of faceless Dodger Dog Deities garbed in long, hooded robes of blue and white.
I began shifting nervously, sweating profusely, clearing my throat for no apparent reason. “Why was my nose so itchy all of a sudden? Why did my back ache?? They must be casting evil curses on me...causing me this discomfort...maybe they're conjuring vengeful spirits to haunt me or just plain mocking me for my arrogant petulance.”
"Please?...Pretty please???...Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Just who do I think I am? They don't take special orders at concessions!!"
I braced myself for the cold denial that had, undoubtedly, been ordained for me.
What seemed like an eternity later, the cashier (the consulted one, not the original one) pushed her way through the swinging doors. She looked at me, then turned right back around and disappeared again into the Dungeon of Divinity.
"They’re toying with me. They're making me wait, forcing me to think about the inconvenience of my egotistical request. Their torturing me slowly before stabbing me hard with their flat-out denial."
Once again, "The Consulted One" emerged from the Dodger Dog Dungeon, this time followed closely by “The Original One”.
They presented me with a cardboard receptacle lined with wax paper and filled with a generous portion of chili that very much resembled a pile of steaming, mushy poop.
"Would you like some nacho cheese on top?"
I returned to my seat...to my sweetie...to The People, victorious. I triumphantly presented the chili. "Behold this, the symbol of you, The People, a people that would not be DENIED." The crowd ripped into a massive celebratory wave.
Success is YUMMY!! However small...and mushy.
P.S. I'm pretty sure the Dodgers won.
P.P.S. Fenway Franks RULE!!!
P.P.P.S I did get a squirt of nacho cheese on the chili bowl.
