As you might already know or you will soon find out, I travel for work. So I find myself at the airport a lot with time to kill. This will be the first of many posts that will come from airports waiting for a flight.
I remember when I was younger, we lived in Tucson and I was a baseball fanatic. I loved to play; we would play every week in the Thornydale little league. If I remember right my coach was named Doug. Back then I thought it was spelled Dug and was short for Dugout. I remember one game in particular when my dad bet me that if I hit a homerun, he would buy me a Big Mac on the way home from the game. As I don't have much time I will tell you that the next at bat I ripped a line drive into left center, all the way to the fence. I booked it around the bases as fast as my little fat feet would go. I rounded first with ease, second wasn't much different. My coach tried to hold me up at third but I could smell the double patty, double cheese, unnecessary bread in the middle goodness, so I went for it. As I headed for home plate I heard my coach and my adoring fans screaming, "SLIDE!!". So I hit the deck and slid for all my tight baseball pants were worth. After the dust cleared and the bodies were separated, there were my pudgy digits on home plate. I beat the throw and later that night I enjoyed my delicious reward. One of the best bets I ever made.
the reason I thought of this memory is the baseball team sitting in the seats next to me. I hope they had a good and delicious tournament.
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