I’ve been busy working on “Outside the Diamond.” I like the way it’s coming out. I’m trying to take a rather banal subject like working outside the baseball stadium in the summer into something far more interesting. The follow is actually a conversation I had with one of the baseball patrons last year. Only rather it being a woman, it was a guy. And instead of it being all too serious on the visitor’s part, he laughed when I started telling him all the things I wanted to tell everyone else. He was a friend of several of the workers inside and befriended me – hence, he got in for free all the times afterward. I’d sell him one ticket and he kept it until he lost it. Then he’d buy another one. Told him it wasn’t necessary, thta it was merely a scam job that the Edinburg Coyotes played on their fans.
A car pulled up and Cool Breeze strolled up to it and asked for the two dollar parking toll. The woman, in her twenties, gave him the look that both he and Soulfly knew rather well. “Two fucking dollars, are you serious?” she asked.
“Quite ma’am. Us parking attendants don’t joke around like that,” Cool said.
“Are you kidding me? Two dollars?”
“I wish I were, but that’s the fee.”
She looked ahead at the parking lot closer to the stadium. “How much is it over there?”
“Same price,” he said. “Better to park there and have your car smashed in by a baseball than to park way out here and walk.”
He parked in parking three after my warning of baseballs smashing car windows. He only parked in parking one or two when it rained. On those days, I was kept up front.