Right Feeling, Wrong Timing

Saturday was supposed to be my great day. For once, I wasn't going to work, instead basking in the glow that is my Michigan football team. Frank got us tickets, and we drove to Ann Arbor, where things started to quickly go wrong.

First, we parked about a mile away from the stadium. I was wearing flats, and still, the walk was exhausting, especially because we were walking much of the way along a gravel path, right against the road where traffic was flying by, making it difficult to sidestep the broken glass on our trail.

Second, we got to the stadium, and some guy told me my handbag was too big to bring into the stadium. I can walk into any stadium in the state with this bag, it is so not very big. Yet at the Big House? If it's not a fanny pack (uck), it's not allowed. He gave me two options: walk back to the car (not happening) or check my bag at some stop on the other side of the stadium (totally not happening). My Survivor side must have clicked in just then, because I guided Frank to another entrance, waited until the bag police stepped away, and walked in. I would like to mention that on our stroll to our seats, I saw a number of bags just as large as mine, including a backpack. There's consistency for you.

Third, the heat was unbearable. Who expects heat stroke in October? Not me. But the sun was relentless, there was not a cloud in sight and we were very, very exposed. The result? SUNBURN. Oh, and swamp nuts. During the second quarter, Frank stood up and declared, "Man, I've got massive swamp nuts." That's when the lady next to me slowly turned her head in his direction and stared, jaw dropped. Frank laughed for the next 10 minutes.

Four, my team SUCKED! We lost to TOLEDO? Who loses to TOLEDO? It was an embarrassment. We were hot, sunburned, tired and humiliated. What else could go wrong?

Five, a bug went wrong. Somewhere along our long walk back to the car, the nastiest bug ever took a rest in my hair. I didn't find this out, however, until we were driving back home, and I ran my hand through my hair, meeting Mr. Bug. If you know anything about my ability to kick over a table at the sight of a bug, you can only imagine the freakout that took place in the car. I whipped the bug out of my hair and ducked, looking for it. It came to rest on the passenger window - way too close to me. I practically had a panic attack, as I leaned over far enough to put my head in Frank's lap (certainly an erotic scene to the car in back of us), and reached my hand back to roll down the window. That's when Frank yelled, "You blew it into the back of the car!" Now I had all the windows down, plus the sunroof open, and yet, every 10 seconds, I was sure there was a bug on my body. Finally we had to pull the car over and inspect every square inch to be sure the bug had actually escaped.

I should have stayed home and worked.