A lot has been made of a news item that ran in the New York Post a few days ago. To refresh your memory:
Yankee fans are seeing – and turning – red over a ban on sunscreen,
which Stadium security guards say was widely expanded in the last few
Those fans are probably the same people who complain about not being able to bring non-clear plastic bags into the stadium. They probably bitch about having to pay to check their unsafe bags at the bowling alley across the street. And they probably also complain about the full-body cavity search they have to endure before entering the cathedral of baseball (Best 25-minute massage I’ve ever had!).
True story: I once froze up while attempting to piss in one of the
Yankee Stadium toilets. The anxiety of urinating next to 30 other guys
got to me. It was like I was at bat in front of the 55,000 faithful. I just stood there in front of the toilet. I was
suddenly overcome with the fear that the guy next to me could hear that
I wasn’t do my job, and so I hummed a song (The Chariots of Fire
theme). He left eventually after what was the longest, loudest piss in
the history of mankind. Then I left, still having to go.
Why do I tell you this? Because at the same game, I was charged $10 to
check my bag in at the bowling alley across the street, I then was
hugged and groped intimately by a security guard at the entrance
(again, a beautiful experience, truly), then when I got into the
stadium I was burned by the afternoon sunlight, by the seventh inning I
was blistery all over, I got to listen to Cotton Eye Joe, and then I
had my bathroom problem. In other words, through suffering I grew.
There’s not much time left for you to do the same!