He called. “Hey, want to come to the A’s game? I have luxury box tickets.”

Hmm. I was working late. Deadlines. I wasn’t going to finish tonight. I was going to have to come in tomorrow, on Saturday, anyway. Work late? Go to the ballgame? Work late? Hmmm.

“Sure. When should I meet you there?”

A mere hour later, we were at the park. We were trying to find Loge seats, booth 58. There it is. We entered. I was shocked. We are in a tiny room with a couple of rows of auditorium style seats. We introduced ourselves to the others in the room, media big wigs from neighboring cities. After helping ourselves to the refreshments provided, we settled in to watch the game. After a couple of at bats, I turned to him. “You know, I feel like I should really appreciate these seats, but …”

“What?” he asked.

“This just ain’t right. We’re at a ballgame. I need to be down there (pointing to field seats). I need to be with the people.”

I’m just not a luxury type of gal.