“I had the worst date of my life over in those bleachers,” said the man behind me at AT&T Park. “I should have listened to her when she said she didn’t like baseball.”
“When was this?” asked his friend.
“We were both 13,” he said.
“Oh, well that’s fine, then,” his friend said. “I thought you meant it was last week or something.”
“Have you been there?” he asked. “To Alameda?”
The other man shook his head. “I’ve heard it exists, but I’ve never been there.”
“Apparently my Dad was really good at escaping during the Revolution,” said the woman on the BART train. “He was good at changing his hair and sneaking across rivers and shit. I never liked him, and I just had a really harsh reality check because I didn’t know I looked like him. Now my Facebook picture is a picture of my Dad, and people think I Photoshopped it to put my face on his body.”
“That’s a beautiful ring,” said the girl at the next table. “Is it a wedding ring?”
“No,” said the woman all in black, with a glance at the sapphire-encrusted band on her left third finger. “It’s just something an old boyfriend gave me.”
“Are you making excuses?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.
“Of course not,” she replied. “What do they serve at these things?”
“Because it’s a free country,” he said.
“What is this music?” said the little boy, snuggled up to his father in the pew. The organist worked her way further into a Bach toccata.
“Church music,” the father said.
“Is it OK to hold it?” said one sister, dancing back and forth in Row 12 of the 737 as she waited for everyone to disembark.
The other sister, up a row, turned to face her sibling, shook her head.
“How long can you hold it?” asked the first sister.
The second sister looked up at the air vents above her and pursed her lips in contemplation. “I can hold it about three hours,” she said.
“I can only hold it about an hour,” the first sister said. The other passengers let her go ahead of them.
100 Proof 