Feeling travel deprivation I gladly accepted  an invitation from Cole to attend a Twins ball game – my first professional baseball game. Hearing the news from me, most people said, “Why aren’t you going to a football game?” It’s because I don’t understand football. To me it’s all just run-hit-fall down.
Since I was feeling totally unappreciated by Claude I decided to leave early on Thursday night. It all boils down to I’m at the bottom of the pyramid: #1 farm, #2 dog, #3 alcohol, #4 friends and #5 subfloor – Dee. I arrived at Janet’s and she made me a couple of marvelous pomegranate  martinis and suddenly the world was brighter.
I was awakened as Vacation Dee and discovered in the shower my leg hair was out of control. I asked Janet if she had heard me yelling “Timber” when I cut them. At the Pancake House I was surprised to be greeted by the former Haley Jones (Sorry, I don’t know your married name), Dave and Jodi Jones’ youngest daughter. She looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous even though her due date is only a few weeks away. I always looked and felt like a beached whale. I went out of the box and ordered a new menu choice. This is layer by layer – sliced onions and peppers,  fried spuds, leftover pot roast, nacho cheese and fried eggs drizzled in hot Cholula sauce, (A whole day’s calories in one meal).
My first challenge was when Cole informed me he wasn’t stopping for bathroom breaks on the trip. I made only one clear to Minneapolis. We veered off to pick up his buddy, Jeremy, who is also in the nuclear business. He had the casual look of movie star Bradley Cooper, but Cole referred to his longer hair as “artsy”. My next challenge was trying to enter my room at the Hyatt. Apparently I’m behind the times ‘cuz I was trying to find a hole to slide my card and after five minutes of frustration, I discovered the door scans your card.
I told the boys supper was my treat and all we had to do was walk across the street to the Japanese restaurant “Schiban”. Cole wanted me to experience where the chef cooks your whole meal right in front of you on a grill. We sat in a semi-circle of eight and the Japanese lady explained how to order. Unfortunately with her accent I missed 99 percent of comprehension and ended up with chicken livers as a side dish, (Yuck, I hate their texture.) The chef was the Flying Knife Madman and I feared we would be skewered. He chopped at super-speed. (I don’t even have good wrist action for foosball). When I received the bill I sent out the text – “The price of tonight’s supper equaled 16 hours work in the melon field – time with Cole priceless.” I barhopped ‘til midnight and last stop was Brit’s Pub and then I bade the boys to carry on without me. No one needs a mom as a chic magnet.
Next morning we dined at Hell’s Kitchen in a rustic basement complete with a lively bar and jazz and blues band. I decided to start the day off with a mimosa (champagne and orange juice), oatmeal and a giant caramel roll swimming in sauce and pecans. Wowser! We strolled the city and walked it off, saw the old Millstone Museum, Cole’s former workplace and I marveled that Cole could call a taxi with his phone and also pay for it. It’s a lot for a technical dinosaur to digest.
Since I tend to be a schleprock, of course it chose to rain the entire ball game. Thank goodness we chose seats under the awning. The food prices were atrocious (a pint of jalapeño mac & cheese was $11. Best buy was a baseball helmet full of super nachos for $14.) We stuck it out during an hour and a half rain delay and were amused by the live-cam of people dancing-kissing-smiling (that’s how we discovered Austin Olson and Katie Heimstra were there also. Cole and Jeremy passed the time asking mathematical  equations and I informed them that I had quit chemistry when I read the introduction.  So they had to lower themselves to history trivia and etc. All in all I absolutely loved the whole baseball experience. Afterwards Cole shared that he had been to eight Twin games and they had lost them all.
Next day’s brunch was at the restaurant “The Keys.” We arrived at 10:30 a.m. and it was a dull roar with a crowd I estimated of 200 people. The wait was 20 minutes and well worth it. I observed while waiting how everyone had their cell phone in hand and I told Jeremy that in the future people would be born without mouths because people choose not to converse with each other. The art of personal conversation is a thing of the past. Noteworthy was the speed of service – our excellent omelets arrived within five minutes. True story!
The long road home began and with it the knowledge that the real world would begin on Monday. No more comfy bed and spacious bathroom with the T.V. to myself.
Dee Baby