Zen and the art of being a Bat Girl

Before the game

Normal Brother Andrew has come into town from California for the weekend for the game, and I’ve come back early from working very hard at Galena with Miss Nettie also to go the game – since the Sox didn’t have a home game on Mother’s Day, they’ve picked the May 22^nd one against the LA Dodgers as their Breast Cancer Awareness Game. Supposedly. At least that’s the idea.

Given that the WS haven't been too forthcoming with any details, I have the strong sense that this will be totally half-assed, in keeping with the spirit of the typical Chicago sports team. My brother thinks the White Sox will channel the spirit of Bill Veeck, he of the promotions centered around midgets and other strange hoopla, and will do it up right. Hmm. We decide to bet on it – mai tais to the winner.

Arriving at the game

We follow instructions and pull up to the parking lot to the south of the stadium. My contact Stacy was supposed to put my name on their list.

Me: Hi, my name is supposed to be on the list. Last name is Huebner?

Parking lot guy: Hmm, no, it’s not there. What’s the name of your contact?

Luckily I had looked up Stacy’s last name - and even kind of remembered it.

Me: Stacy….Tchahaloupoulas, or something incomprehensible like that.

PLG: Okay, can you pull over there and call her?

Me, sighing: Sure.

I start pulling over, and before I can say anything, Andrew pipes up.

NB Andrew: So. I guess I owe you a mai tai, huh?

We decide to go double or nothing, and I call Stacy, who can’t understand the error, but she’s going to call down. In the meantime, we decide to take some pictures, to chronicle the esteemed Bat Girl Journey. I also figure I might as well include all bystanders in our pictorial, so I go to chat with the parking attendant people.

Me: Hey, I’m chronicling our journey here – can we get a picture of me in a pretend argument with you guys?

PAP: Oh no, no arguments! No no….

Me: Umm, I said pretend argument. You know, as in make believe?

They refuse to play along, but Andrew has gotten some pictures of me arguing with them about our getting into a pretend argument, so that works.

Finally, Stacy calls down, and we’re allowed into the parking lot. Needless to say, this doesn’t bode well for any kind of coordinated effort on the part of the White Sox……

Inside, at Guest Relations

Me: Hi, I’m supposed to ask for Stacy Tchihalalaloupoulos?

Desk person: Stacy Tsihlopoulos?

Me: Yes, that’s it.

DP: Okay, hold on.

Stacy shows up a few minutes later,

and after the introductions and my being given a glorious bag of pink schwag AND my Bat Girl jersey (!), I decide to ask the most important question.

Me: So, since I’m not throwing out the first pitch, who is? Someone famous?

Stacy: Umm, you know, I really don’t know? (She looks at her detailed schedule of events for the day.) No, I don’t have that information just now.

Me: So you don’t mind if we storm the field, like the Liggetts, do you? Though of course without beating up any refs. That would be rude. (bright smile)

Stacy, smiling nervously: Ha. Ha. Umm…

Me: Oh, I’m just kidding! We’ll probably just run around a bit, blurs in pink, chased by security. It’ll be fun!

Stacy doesn’t seem to understand my brand of humor, and she goes off for a few minutes – when she comes back, she has another person with her, an even younger woman named Kristine. Or as I think of her, Handler #2.

Kristine Handler #2: Hi! Okay, so I’ll help Stacy if she needs help keeping an eye on…..I mean…..assisting in making sure you all have a perfect day.

We set off, my brother and I and my friend Mickey who has come early and thus joined our little group.

Me: So what exactly do we get to do? Do we get to meet all the players? Do I have to beat any small children? I did put on the foil, just in case.

KH2: The kids won’t be on the field, they’ll be in the stands, so…..

Me: Excellent! That’ll keep the beatings down to a minimum.

Poor Stacy has disappeared, probably to go for a drink.

We get onto the field, and….no one’s there. But the glorious field! I’ve donned my special Bat Girl shirt, so I dump my other bags and start to make a beeline for the field.

KH2: Umm…..can you…I mean….do you mind just staying here in this little area? They don’t let anyone on the field.

Me, frowning: What? That’s….hey, look at those little seats in the front part of the dugout – can I take a picture there?

KH2: Umm…..but…..I don’t think……

I start walking over towards what I'll soon learn is the Sacred Exalted Dugout…..

(Next: whereupon our plucky heroine Miss Tasha almost gets herself tackled by Security)