Last night, my wife and I went to the Timberwolves game with our good friends and neighbors, Shane and Molly. The tickets were free from Molly's brother, to which, I thank him. We were going to go out for dinner prior to the game and have a nice evening away from the trying riggors that is parenthood. There was of course the everpressing question that comes up when going out "What am I going to wear?"
Now, this issue can be resolved in several different ways. One, simply pull out a pair of jeans and a decent dress shirt or sweatshirt and go. Or you can ask your other members of your party what they are wearing. The second option is by far the more amusing. Usually this degenerates to "I don't know, what are you wearing?". Now, let me just say that this second option is by far more common with those of the female persuation than of the testosterone gifted, as we simply don't care, unless it's for a sporting event of which we either have money bet on, or have sold our souls in an effort to help the team do well. Given the T-Wolves do not fall into either of the categories for me, the clothes were easy.
This leads me to the ensuing conversation between my wife and Molly:
Rachel: "Hi Molly, what are you wearing"
Molly: "I don't know, probably not something nice"
Rachel: "Why not?"
Molly: "Because there will be beer and hot dog juice flying around"
Wait a second, hot dog juice flying around? Now, I've been to college football games where spaghetti with red sauce was thrown around, but never anything like this, especially at professional level games.
Anyway, when we got to the game, Molly dressed in her hot dog juice repellant outfit and an interesting thing occurred. A Laker fan came to the game with a set of bongos. This guy was just having a blast, banging on the bongos when the Lakers did well. There were some that were annoyed by him and let him know. But hey, he wasn't yelling any profanities or being a jerk, just having fun and cheering for his team. At first I was annoyed a bit as well, but after about 5-10 minutes, I couldn't get enough of them. I had to hear more bongos! It was like the Saturday Night Live skit where Will Ferrell is playing the cowbell while ELO was recording "Don't Fear the Reaper". Christopher Walken was the producer and kept coming out saying "I can't get enough cowbell, I need to hear more cowbell". It helped make for a very enjoyable evening.
Oh, and there were no incidences of hot dog juice being flung at or near Molly. She claims that some came from the side, through her glasses, into her eye, ricocheted out, somehow hit her hand, soaked through the aforementioned hot dog juice repellant outfit, got her arm wet then went back through the outfit and then smudged the outside of her glasses. While she cannot provide any proof this happened, any liquid that did hit her was likely her husband's tears from the T-Wolves blowing a 16 point lead and losing.