Have you ever attended an event inside a boisterous stadium and wished you had stayed home instead?
I have — more than once.
Seems no matter where I go, whether it's baseball, football, a concert, even a dog show. I can't seem to find my place.
Oh, the seats are easy to locate. Just follow the stub. You can pick your friends, but not your seating neighbors. Much like the game itself, it's the luck of the draw.
Take the time I secured two tickets to a New England Patriots game. These weren't just any seats but right there on the 50-yard line. I was ecstatic. It's one thing watching the Pats play on TV and another being there in the thick of the activity. The electricity was set to discharge.
Never mind that it took me an hour to get there. So what if I paid $50 to park my car. Had the Patriots won that day, the experience would have been better.
What killed it were the obnoxious people in back of me, spilling their beer and cursing up a storm. To make matters worse, by the time the traffic had cleared and I was on the road home, another 90 minutes had passed.
Had I watched the game from the comfort of my living room, I would have enjoyed a far better time and saved a tidy sum.
The nightmare runs parallel with a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young concert I attended at Boston Garden. Little did I know I was about to join a "pot" party. A strong odor of marijuana filtered over our seats from an audience young enough to be my children.
By the time we got out, I could have been arrested for suspicious activity. Had I gone directly to church, my reputation would have been ruined.