Living The High Life

You know me. I fancy myself a man of the people, accessible and relatable. However just beneath the surface lurks a different me, a me that longs to be on the other side of the velvet rope, a me that enjoys the perks of wealth and fame and the me who isn't ashamed to admit that I like setting myself apart from the rest of you. Last night, that me got to come out for a few hours.

My friend Mike is a die hard Chicago Cubs fan, but last night, he scored the Holy Grail in the minds of World Champion White Sox fans and had "Scout Seats" at "The Cell". For the uninitiated, "Scout Seats" are a special section right behind home plate. The seats are padded and wide, allowing my ample frame unprecedented comfort, and the ticket comes with lots of perks. You get special parking mere feet from an exclusive entrance. You are able to partake in a pre-game buffet that includes a variety of succulent dishes from around the globe and an open bar with top shelf hooch. You eat in air conditioned comfort surrounded by White Sox memorabilia, while an attentive staff caters to your every whim. Then it's game time.

You get to these phenomenal seats through the bowels of the ballpark, walking right past the locker rooms. Don't panic as you head down the long tunnel, you're almost to heaven. Just before you get to your seats you pass a cooler full of ice cream teats, a popcorn machine, and a barrel of peanuts. Want a little treat? Help yourself. I always get a little rush when I walk into a ballpark, but nothing compared to the rush I felt last night. I walked out of the tunnel and was headed right onto the field. Only an elderly man with a name tag kept me from running to home plate and calling my shot ala Babe Ruth. We were in the second row, so close that when Paul Konerko was taking his practice swings, we could hear the "whoosh" of the air being moved. I almost feel guilty telling you this, but maybe deep down I have a regal sense of entitlement that allows me to regale you with this tale. Once we were at the seats, the perks didn't stop. Drinks flowed freely, brought to us by an attentive host, another food menu was delivered and we were warned not to fill up, because all the desserts would be available after the 7th inning. All that was great, but being that close to our favorite players made "Wife" and I giddy. I saw her blush on a number of occasions when her "Boy", Sox catcher, AJ Pierzynski came up to bat or squatted behind the plate. She says she wouldn't leave me for him, but who are we kidding? I look horrible in pin stripes. It was a magical night. I even think Mike and his wife Michelle enjoyed themselves. At least they got to see a winning team for once. (HA!)

But now it's back to reality. The doors have been closed and my access to a better life is blocked. I'll be back among the masses on my next visit to the "Cell". I'll have to eat what you eat, and use the noisy, crowded public rest room like the rest of you,unlike last night when I relieved myself in clean, quiet, private comfort. I'll smile and from the outside you'll never know how I long to be on the other side of the rail. I'll keep my longing on the inside, allowing it to slowly eat at me, until some point in the late innings when I look toward home plate and sob uncontrollably. Sometimes it's better not to cross the rail in the first place. Once you get a taste of how the other half lives, it's hard to go back. I'll once again be a man of the people. But underneath...... See you in the upper deck. Later...Brian