Sorry for the delay, Gentle Readers, worked called all day yesterday.
Wednesday. Snow awaiting us in the morning. Mrs. Cheeser and I are up at 5:30 to shovel the white stuff. I need to be in my firm's office about two blocks from Mrs. Cheeser's office so I take her to work with the idea we'll be able to get away easily and early for the game. We take her new fancy-schmancy SUV. Very capable in the snow. I'm impressed.
Meeting with client, and others from the Mountain Time Zone, starts at 1:00. Plan is for me to pick up Mrs. Cheeser around 4:30. It becomes clear that's not going to happen. We get to 5:00. I tell the assembled that we need to start wrapping it up for the day as my client and I have things to do (I got tickets to the game for my client, a KU grad). Client won't, however, let things end. 5:30. I now know it will be fast food and a dash to the game. 6:00. Client still talking about what we'll be talking about tomorrow. I suggest maybe we could talk about tomorrow's activities tomorrow (what a concept). Meeting breaks up with promises to get back together at 8:30 before the main event tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I politely see my client to the elevator, give a few dining recommendations for the out-of-towners, see them off, and fairly run to the office I'm using here.
My OGAC issues are creeping me out. Just let me say that the offices out here don't have locks. Try changing clothes leaning against a door. I hope the thumping sound wasn't misunderstood.
In the car by 6:15, Mrs. Cheeser beside me shortly thereafter, on I-435 in a flash. Realize there will be no time for dinner. Race to Lawrence on very well treated roads.
Apparently Lawrence doesn't use chemicals on its streets. Encounter snow covered roads at the city limits. Traffic. Slow traffic. More traffic. Listening to the pre-game on the radio. Hear the band playing. It's clear we'll be late. Hate that.
Pull into the parking area. The parking guys aren't there. The illusion that the Williams Fund is concerned about my ability to park in "my" area is shattered. All the spots are taken. No, not really "all." The lot was very poorly plowed, can't see the lines on the ground, people parked all over the place, but not necessarily between the lines. No spaces left. Park nearby.
We're in Allen. Score is 8 to 0. Mrs. Cheeser heads to the restroom, I head to our seats. The usher guy, the one in the yellow hat, gives me a hard time about being late. No one in our row is there yet, either. Folks we chat with give me a hard time about being late.
The school administrator who sits right in front of us sold her tickets again. The corporate seats behind us have a family attending their first game (they leave at half time).
Ok. Missed a lot of other stuff. Who presented the colors? How was the National Anthem? Did the "ball crew" put on a display of three point shooting? Was Shannon even at the game? I never saw her. Did any of our players crack heads during the Nick-Bradford-running-in-place drill?
Anyway, I'm in my seat feeling kind of upset. I hate being late. I'm hungry. So my observations are probably shaded by those feelings. But the crowd seemed, I don't know, off. More surprisingly, the band seemed off. Tempos seemed slower. I couldn't even hear the drummer – first time I remember that.
The family behind us at their first game was baffled at why everyone was booing Moo. Dad had no idea. The two kids were really upset by it. I finally turned around to explain we were saying "moo," not "boo." I got incredulous looks. "It's his name." "His name is Moo"? "No, it's Moo-lye, no, Moo-li, no, his nickname is Moo Moo." They looked at me like I was from Mars. "He's from Senegal." The wife moved away from me and I was ignored the rest of the half they attended. Fine with me.
The people who got their tickets from the administrator in front of us left at the half, too.
Anyone else kind of put out with the guy with the T-shirt gun? He is starting to bug me. I think he should wear a helmet, let his helper load his gun, tap him on the head, and fire from his shoulder. Good WWII, bazooka form. As it is, he looks like he's trying to imitate how some rock start holds his guitar.
Everyone and everything seemed to tick me off. I noticed the Dance Team f/k/a the Crimson Girls seemed to really get into their routines only when the camera was on them. The Cheerleaders were working hard, but still don't seem to be very crisp. And as I mentioned, even the band seemed to be having an off night.
The crowd was weird. People coming and going ("and going and coming, and always too soon" – anyone remember the movie that's from?). I suppose it was to be expected in a game like this. But everything seemed off.
Someone opened the windows behind us. Nice cold breeze blowing down our necks.
Keith was wearing a T-shirt under his jersey. Wonder if it has anything to do with a certain 15 year-old stalker, I mean poster, who digs his chest hair ("OMG, LOL.").
I'm going to stop. I sound like a curmudgeon even to myself. I guess the learning is to avoid me when I'm late somewhere, hungry and cranky. While we'll be at the Shootout on Saturday, I was dismayed that there's not another home game until after the first of the year. Well, as Mrs. Cheeser would say, that will give me time to "get happy in the same pants I got sad in." Now that I think about it, the only smile I got all day was when Mrs. Cheeser told me something seemed to be going on with the MU investigation….