Hit the road for an away game this week. Wildcat action moved west to the friendly (not so much) confines of Hebron’s Rink E. Dink Memorial Football Stadium (sic), Grill & Car Park Emporium. I guess when your team plays in a 14,000+ seat stadium it’s mostly downhill from there, but when you see visiting fans turned away by the hundreds because the visiting side is sold out you gain an appreciation for the luxuries of home. Texasbob lists Rink E. Dink capacity at 9500. Two words. No effin’ way.
We were unable to purchase tickets being 15 minutes late and all so we stood with the crowd of 150 or so crammed against the fence. It started in the parking lot. No football stadium parking. The field is on campus so it was just the normal high school parking lot parking except it was like bizarro parking with every possible 3 foot gap covered up by a car. We parked on some grass. I’m not sure that was allowed. Or appreciated. Oh well.
Finally we decided to try the other end of the bleachers. Figured we might be able to grab a spot by the fence and watch from the end zone outside the field. That’s when we encountered Mr. Crowd Control/Concessionaire Specialist. We could see the open back door of the concession stand. And the Security Concessionaire had arrayed his 55 quart Igloos in such a fashion as to block the path to the other end of the field. I suspected trouble, but thought perhaps they might just need some extra room for slinging dogs and slapping patties on their brought-over-from-the-Hebron-trailer-park-in-the-back-of-Chuck-Fred’s-pickup propane gas grill. I could see him tense up in his chair, expectant. All cat-like, ready to pounce. So we went around. Esposa, Budman and me. Charging into the breach. Determined not to be beaten down by the Man. Si Se Puede!
Security Concessionaire/Propane Gas Grill Chef: There ain’t no entry back there.
Me: <not breaking stride> Thanks. We’re not looking to enter.
SC/PGGC/A55H0l3: I said. You cain’t go in back there.
Me: <tense, but bravely pushing forward, almost past him> No problem. We’re not going in. <past the 55 quart Igloo coolers. almost there>
M1ST3R D0Uch3: <rising from his chair, sensing my challenge of his territorial superiority, chasing us down> Sir! You’re gonna need to take your family and git outta here!
Me: <scared now. he’s approaching me. tempted to sacrifice the family by saying. Who? I don’t know these people and leaving, but instead reaching way down deep inside for the courage and appropriate air of superiority. I stop. look him up and down. look back at his grill and sheepish grill partner and say…> What? Are you the concession stand guy? <Esposa and Budman are through, ahead of me now.>
p4tt13 m4st3r: <smugly, cocking his head back> We control this whole side! <looks from one end of the tiny “stadium” to the other so as to demonstrate the full expanse of his domain>
Me: <regaining my composure now. understanding that this tiny little man has never had this much authority in his entire livelong life> How nice for you. <glancing at his partner> How nice for you both. Your mothers must be proud. <His uncertainty is palpable. I hold his eyes in a steady gaze. Nose slightly elevated in that Plano sort of way. Finally, he’s had enough. He blinks>
h0t d0g c00ker: <deflating, wilting before my very eyes like Barack Obama at a Sarah Palin Tupperware party>I’m gonna call security….
<Wah! And what? they’ll call my Mommy?>
Me: Send him over. We’ll be right over there. <pointing>
p4tt13 fl1pp3r: <petulantly setting his jaw>I’ll do it.
Me: <ever gracious in victory>Please do. I’ll be happy to chat with him.
Esposa: <from somewhere behind me> BRING IT!!! <hustles off>
<Jeebus. It’s the skunk story all over again>
Anyway. We got past the crack security/concessions staff. Found us a nice spot on the fence and watched the Cats roll 41-28. Victory made all the sweeter by the lack of Hawk Hawspitality.
So here’s to you Mr. Security Concessionaire! As Black Bart used to be fond of saying….”You must love your f**king job.”
(I should note that we were not alone. There were dozens of fans in the are we moved to and dozens more came over during the game. Hot Dog Security must have had a full night,)