Jamie has a lot of perks at his job, which usually manifest themselves by way of concert or sporting event tickets. The other day, his boss gave him tickets for the Rockies game. I am not usually a baseball fan but make the exception when I can sit in the cushy company suite and gorge myself on baseball fare. Only this time, we weren’t given suite tickets but rather the CEO’s $135 seats behind home-plate.
The only thing we were bummed about was the lack of free food at our disposal. So, we arrived early and downed a crappy Rockies dog (Jamie) and a chipotle chicken sandwich (me). Twenty bucks later, we made our way down to our seats. Down, down, down. We just kept going and going until we reached a little gated-off area and were shocked as we continued to the floor. Our seats were on row 2, directly behind the team owner.
As we got ready to settle in, an usher told us we needed to grab some wristbands and dinner was waiting for us in the clubhouse. Huh? We did as we were told, winding through the tunnel until we came upon an oasis of fine-dining right there below the stadium. Mounds of food in a complimentary gourmet buffet were presented to us–seared salmon, succulent steak, epicurean salads, delicious veggies, and a sensuous dessert bar that never ended. Jamie and I took one look at each other in disgust at having just forked over $20 for a sub-par mezzanine meal and proceeded to devour everything in sight.
When we eventually finished, the game had already started. Once in our seats,a waiter approached and gave us yet another menu–this time detailing free food items from the all-you-can eat grill and snack bar: burgers, pizza,brats, nachos, ice cream. The list went on. ‘Twas quite the eye-opening experience re: how the upper tier lives. While you’re mortaging yourself for a hotdog, they’re livin’ the high life.
We barely made it out of the game. Oh yeah, the game. I think we lost. But I was too busy staring at the rock on the owner’s trophy wife’s hand and ordering “a double” Ben & Jerry’s Sundae Cup. After this experience, forget my Canuckian roots as a hockey devotee; Take Me Out to (or would that be roll me out of) the Ball Game….