Throw Me Some Peanuts and Crackerjacks...

Earlier this summer, Husband and I went to a Yankee game (my second baseball game, ever). I couldn't wait to go - not necessarily to watch the Yankees play, but to eat the ballpark snacks and to set foot in Yankee Stadium once again before it gets torn down.

Upon arrival, we bought hot dogs from the concession stand and found our way to our Bleacher seats, braving the rest of the Creatures and their antics. The Yankees did not play very well that day. In fact, the Red Sox killed them. Luckily, my attention was not on the game, but the stands that evening. I watched each vendor hawk his wares, impressed by their wit and good humor (if I was hauling around a heavy, steaming box of hot dogs in 97 degree heat, I would not be so personable). After a few innings, Husband noticed that I looked disappointed.

"I'm sorry that the Yankees are losing," he said. "I know that you were excited for this game."

"Oh, I'm not upset about the Yankees..." I sighed.

"You're not?" He asked. "Well, then what is it?"

"Nobody is throwing anything," I complained.

Husband looked at me, blankly. "Lots of balls have been thrown," he said, patiently.

"I don't mean the game," I tried to explain, "The vendors are supposed to throw peanuts into the stands when people buy them. Or crackerjacks, or hot dogs..."

Husband burst into laughter.

"I don't think they do that anymore. And if they do, it's only peanuts. They definitely do NOT throw hot dogs."

"Well, they should throw everything." I insisted.

"You are the only person I know who goes to a baseball game and doesn't care if the home team wins, only that the vendors throw food!" Husband said, amusement in his eyes.

I shrugged. "Isn't that the whole point of a ball game?"

Husband just shook his head.

After a few more innings, I finally gave up on the vendors and found that I was actually getting into the game - learning the players, the rules, etc. I was enjoying myself and decided then and there that I loved the Yankees and would forever be a die hard fan (even though they really did play terribly that day). I turned to Husband to include him in this revelation and, from the corner of my eye, I saw a vendor throw a pack of peanuts towards the rear of the bleachers. I cheered and clapped my hands in personal victory, much to the confusion of those around me.