US Openy goodness

[thebratqueen]

So today, thanks to my cowardly Elder Brother who hid out on the West Coast, my dad and I were in possession of tickets to the US Open. I can't say that we're big tennis fans (basketball is a bigger draw for me, comparatively) but we're not anti-tennis either (that's yellow sweaters, to those of you playing the home game) so we decided to go.

The day began bright and sunny with promises for the temperature to hover around 70-80. After a week of rain this was a good thing. I got out of bed with a song in my... well not really because I went to sleep too late and I'm tired, but still, I'm not grumpy either.

As per my usual routine I get up, snuggle Luna while brushing her down, then go to give Mac his morning snuggles. Normally this works. That is because normally Luna does not drop about 86% of her braincells and decide to put herself literally under my feet. I accidentally step on her paw, she gives out a yelp of pain (understandably) and Mac, who only understands that Luna is upset about something, freaks out in my arms and leaps to the ground.

So now I look like I've been attacked by Freddie Krueger. Seriously. This is not your usual upset kitty cat scratch.

Luckily I am not without first aid products. I elevate my chum-creating arm, go into the bathroom, and wash up, apply ointments and some huge-ass bandages that I happen to have lying around. The bleeding stops but I'm paranoid enough about the Plutonian germs that might be hanging around inside of a tennis stadium's restroom so I leave the bandages on and pack extras in my purse, along with the ointment.

This turned out to be a good thing. Because on the way to the stadium Mensa candidate me decided to tell my dad that we should do a bathroom break at a highway rest stop because the stadium was bound to have huge lines and traffic and, well, I drank too much caffiene to help wake myself up. *cough*

This was a fine idea in theory. In reality I got two steps out of the car and took a digger on the pavement (the ground leapt up at me, I swear - plus you know how there's all sorts of gravity to be found when you're not fully awake in the morning). So out comes the ointment and the huge ass bandages again. Verily I am the hotness. Especially if you're turned on by people sporting enough first aid gear to rival the Mummy. Go me!

Anyhoo, we get to the stadium without further ado. This also proved to be very fortunate since Elder Brother's tickets.... Well lemme put it this way. I'm not saying we were so high up that we had a better view of Shea Stadium than we did of the tennis match, I'm saying we were three rows lower than that. Also, for the record, I would like to tell everyone who sat around us that yes, we get it, these are the nosebleed seats. Trust me you're not the first person to crack that joke. Now sit down.

Anyway, having the extra time to hire some sherpa guides and make basecamp at row M proved very useful.

Seriously, though, I kid. It's not that big a stadium so even high up as that it was a fairly good vantage point. It was also nice because being higher up meant we were able to catch the intermittent breeze, which was a very welcome thing in the human roasting pan that passes for the home of the US Open. I can't imagine how the players cope with it.

Luckily I have actually gone to the Open before (a long long time ago) so I knew to hit it like a Garden District tour - cool clothes, sunglasses, hat with a big brim and sunscreen. As an FYI, buying sunscreen at the Open will set you back 7 bucks for what essentially amounts to a moist towelette that was once in the same room as a bottle of Coppertone, but believe me it's worth every penny. You will go up like flashpaper.

So, like a good girl, I slathered on the +30 sun protection. Like a well-intentioned girl I avoided putting it near my bandages because I figured the last thing I wanted to do was sweat these chemicals into the open wounds.

Heh heh.

Ahem. So now I look fairly well-tanned in some places, adorably blushed in others, and like a photo negative of a zebra everywhere else. Combine that with the stiff limbs from the fall this morning and I am definitely the poster girl for the latest Afterschool Special about when it's time to leave your boyfriend. Either that or one about the dangers of Goth culture, I'm not sure.

The game itself was nice though. I got to watch Andre get his ass whupped. I, much like everyone else in the stadium, kind of wanted him to win but since I didn't get my hopes up (having watched him play before) it turned out pretty much as I expected. For those of you who watched on TV I can vouch that, yes, the between the legs shot was impressive, but God Juan seems full of himself. Perhaps that's an ironic thing to say considering who he was playing against but hey - Agassi was actually nice to people who cheered him on while he was doing his warm ups, while Juan at all times seemed a little too interested in trying to convice us we should all suck his dick. I call 'em as I see 'em.

Otherwise it was a good day. Weather was good, company was great, the people around me weren't annoying - or those that were were only annoying in an amusing way (like the 3 teenage girls who shot dagger eyes at everyone around them for not standing during the singing of the National Anthem, yet failed to realize this was the rehearsal for said Anthem, and the actual standing and paying respects part would come, when, as for example, they were actually starting the game).

Plus I got to eat a foot-long hotdog, and there's no end of amusement to be found there.

So all in all a good day. Now to take this battered body off to a cool shower. Later!