Supergay Takes in a Ballgame

For most guys, gay or straight, taking in a ballgame isn't an apocalyptic experience.  You go, watch the game, maybe walk around, hit up the beer stand (or the bars, in newer parks), stay for most of the game, and maybe even yell a little bit.  From diehard fan to casual observer, it's usually a really fun time (if you aren't counting the dollars coming out of your wallet).

Then, there's Supergay.  That's what I call this one friend of mine, who I've given tickets to tonight.  It's his first ballgame... ever.  He is, well, precious.  The one you may refer to as "she" when joking around.  The one who would never go in public with a hair out of place, who believes in $2500 outfits despite not being 25 years old yet.

So I confirmed my plans with Supergay this morning, letting him know where to get the tickets and such.  After two weeks of saying he wanted to go to a game, his excitement level was off the charts.

Then it happened.

We had an unforeseen short rain storm today.  About 10 minutes long.  And I got the following text:

"This weather better not get all crazy tonight because it will fuck up my outfit! Does the ballpark have valet?"

I thought he was kidding.  I wrote back as such.  But he was serious.

"Maybe I'll hire a towncar. Will the game be longer than an hour?"

Supergay, tell me you're kidding. After suggesting that he take a ride on the dark side and actually butch it up for a minute, I told him if it gets too uncomfortable for him, he could hang out in the many bars around the ballpark, which still have great sight lines. There's even a sushi bar, I said.

"I hate sushi.  Do I have heated seats? I get cold easily and I'm worried about my skin."

To make a play on Bill Simmons' mailbag closing comment ("Yes folks, these are my readers"), yes folks, this is one of my friends.

Guys, for the love of god... if you ever get invited to go to a ballgame, just suck it up.  It's not like you're changing the oil in your car.