The Last String

Chapter14

"Plus, how freaking old are you?! How the hell do you know what that means?"

He let out a breath smiling, "My ol' sis is so naive."

That made the other idiot chuckle.

Sighhhh, and I wanted to be nice and get them to experience something awesome!

..

As the sun hit my face and I breathed in the fresh air, I temporarily forgot that I am at a sporting event. But when I opened my eyes and looked around, I was reminded of all things American. From the national anthem to the international players on the field, all the sights and sounds of a baseball game come together like a slice of Americana pie.

First, the entrance turnstile click and clank, and then a hallway of noise bombarded me. All the fans voices coalesced in a chorus of sound, rising to a humming clamour. The occasional, "Programs, get your programs, here!" jumped out through the hum to get my attention. I navigated my way through the crowded walkways of the stadium (dragging Andrew and Josh) , moving to the right of some people, to the left of others, and I eventually found the section number where our seats were located.

I still can't believe Andrew hasn't been to a baseball game before.

As I approached my seat I heard the announcer's voice echoed around the ballpark, "Attention fans. In honour of our country, please remove your caps for the singing of the national anthem." His deep voice echoed around each angle of the park, and every word was heard again and again.

The crowd sang and hummed "The Star-Spangled Banner," and I felt a surprising amount of national pride through the voices. I took my seat as the umpire shouted, "Play ball!" and the game began.

"Oh my gosh, Lilly I'm so excited!" Andrew shouted so I can hear him over all those people around us who were cheering.

"I know you are, quit fangirling you." I teased.

..

In the fifth inning of the game, I decided to find a concessions stand. Few tastes are as American as hot dogs and soda pop, and they cannot be missed at a ball game. The smell of hot dogs carried through the park, down every aisle, and inside every concourse. They were always as unhealthy as possible, dripping in grease, while the buns were soft and always too small for the dog. The best way to wash down the Ball Park Frank is with a large soda pop, so I ordered both.

Doing my best to balance the cold pop in one hand and the wrapped-up dog in the other, I found the nearest condiments stand to load up my hot dog. A dollop of bright green relish and chopped onions, along with two squirts of the ketchup and mustard completed the dog. As I continued the balancing act between the loaded hot dog and pop back to my seat, a cheering fan bumped into my pop hand. The pop splashed out of the cup and all over my shirt, leaving me drenched. I made direct eye contact with the man who bumped into me and he looked me in the eye, looked at my shirt, told me how sorry he was, and then I just shook my head and kept walking. "It's all just part of the experience," I told myself.

Before I was able to get back to my seat, I heard the crack of a bat, followed by an uproar from the crowd. Everyone was standing, clapping, and cheering. I missed a home run. I found my aisle and asked everyone to excuse me as I slipped past them to my seat. "Excuse me. Excuse me. Thank you. Thank you. Sorry," is all I could say as I inched past each fan. Halfway to my seat I could hear discarded peanut shells crunch beneath my feet, and each step was marked with a pronounced crunch.

When I finally got to my seat I realised it was the start of the seventh inning stretch.

"This is so not your day Lills," Josh spoke once he took in my appearance.