Month: June 2020

These days we’re getting used to Social Distancing.  We’re learning to keep busy at home and avoid large crowds like you would find at a sporting event.  Some of us are okay with the isolation, and some of us miss the interaction.  Today, I’m going to tell you about a time when no one was concerned with social distancing. I’m going to take you back to a day when my husband and I took our now-grown daughters to a Minnesota Twins game at the Metrodome. No worries, just a carefree, sunny day of family fun. I hope the story will remind you that good times are coming, and while we wait, we can find laughter in old memories.

I don’t remember the exact date, or the exact Twins game, but I know it was in 1997. The girls were 12 and 8.  I’m not a big sports fan, but I do love a good old-fashioned baseball game with the family. But this game was not just anywhere.  It was at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome.  Imagine that.  A time when everyone could agree to name a sports venue after a politician; our beloved Vice President and avid sports fan, Hubert H. Humphrey. The ten-acre, air-supported domed roof took four months to build. It was made of two layers of woven fiberglass fabric separated by a cushion of air and coated with Teflon.

Going to the Dome was an adventure for our family who was used to sticking close to home and doing mostly 4-H things.  As the youngest child of 8, with 5 brothers, my husband longed for this kind of activity. I can imagine he got tired of the endless girl pursuits in our household like Barbies, makeup and debates, A.K.A. cat fights. He probably missed the jostling, wrestling and sports that he grew up with.  This was about to be a pure sensory experience. The noise of the crowd, the smell of the hot dogs, the organ playing, and the scoreboard lit up. The anticipation was intoxicating.  We were all pumped up.

Off we went to the Metrodome on a perfect Sunday morning, the kids skipping Sunday school so we could drive, park and get settled in for the 1:00 game. We were buckled in the car, baseball caps on our heads, wearing Minnesota Twins shirts, and the kids carrying their baseball gloves, hoping to catch those pop-flies.  We parked in a lot across the street and started our walk to the stadium.  Our tickets were taken and we walked into the dome with a ‘Whoosh‘. The girls had to hang on to their hats so they wouldn’t lose them in the vacuum created by the air holding up the ceiling. The ‘Whoosh‘ of the Metrodome is still a favorite memory of mine; a sound and a feeling that make me smile. Maybe some of you remember that too.

We were in the second level, right field side. We had four seats in the middle of the row.  I went in first, then our youngest daughter, then our oldest daughter, then my husband. We always made sure to keep those girls safe; a parent on either side, keeping them from strangers and in inside our view. Sadly, this was especially important in the years after the Adam Walsh and Jacob Wetterling kidnappings.  Our seats were great, the weather was perfect and the game started. Oh, we had fun with the game banter and singing with the organ.  Through the first three innings, the seats next to me were empty. But then someone came to sit down. And that is when the experience took a turn; for me anyway.

A very tall man sat down in the seat next to me. Next to him was a child.  At least I assume there was a child, because I could see two little shoes on the floor. This guy had no worries about boundaries or social distancing. He plopped in place and proceeded to lean beyond my arm rest and into my seat space in classic man spreading style. I would lean away, and he would spread over further.  I tried to be polite and friendly and not make a scene.  But really, I was uncomfortable.  I kept trying to make eye contact with my husband, trying to get him to see the situation.  He would look at me, but instead of understanding my cues, he would say loudly, “What?” Being Minnesota nice, I was in a conundrum. I couldn’t just holler down the row, “This guy is in my space!”  Do I just put up with this guy? Do I ask him to move over, or do I change places with my small daughter?  You know what I did.  I did the only thing I could do.  I sucked it up and sat there, seething, squirming, trying to make myself as small a possible without my daughters noticing my discomfort.

The game progressed and I had as much fun as I could under the circumstances. Then came the hot dog vendor.  He was up and down the rows, yelling “Hot dogs, cold drinks”. Someone would order a hot dog and instead of the vendor climbing over people to get it to them in the middle of the rows, the vendor would hand it to the nearest person, and we would pass it down.  Then, the person who bought it would hand the money to the person nearest to them, and we would pass it down.

This method was working well.  Until Tall Guy next to me wanted a hot dog. Or maybe it was for the Little Shoes sitting next to him.  I don’t know, but I felt obligated to pass it down.  It seems weird to me now that anyone would want their food touched by multiple strangers. But this was before Covid and appeared to be normal behavior for the baseball crowd. I couldn’t really refuse unless I wanted to be a jerk and make everyone stand up to let the guy move down the row and get it himself from the vendor.

I cringed when I saw Tall Guy signal for a hot dog. One by one, people passed it down. It came to me and I handed it to him. He passed it off to Little Shoes next to him.  Then he started digging through his pockets for money.  He pulled out some change and stuck it in his mouth.  Then he kept digging until he found some bills.

Reluctantly, I held out my hand for the money we had to pass down to the vendor who was waiting. As Tall Guy held a bill in one hand, his other hand grabbed the ball of change from his mouth and chunked it down in my open palm. Then he laid the bill on top! Oh my God! I nearly fainted.  Once I composed myself, I stood up and reached over to my husband. I plunked the money in his hand and said, “We need to change seats now or I’m going home!” I rushed to the restroom to wash my hands and came back to my husband’s vacant seat.

Folks, there is an art to experiencing a difficult situation in public and not showing your feelings. I mostly made it out of the stadium without making a scene. But once I heard the final ‘Whoosh‘ out the door and I was out of the Metrodome, I let my husband hear it!  And I’m still talking about it 23 years later.  With this in mind, I’m okay with social distancing.