N. calls and says, in a voice of a person condemned to intolerable suffering:
“I will be late because I’m going to a baseball game with the guys.”
Coming from him, this sentence sounds the same as if I said, “I will be at a knitting bee with the housewives.” Or if I said, “I will be at a party with chit-chatting networkers.” Or if Sarah Palin said, “I will be at the library with academics.” Or if Rick Santorum said, “I will be at an orgy with the hippies.” Or if Obama said, “I will be bowling with truck drivers.”
N. has never been to a baseball game and would never go of his own free will. I know because I suggested we go on Saturday, just to see his reaction. He had a very haunted look. But his company has clients visiting from overseas, and they need to be shown a good time. Good time in this geographic area translates into baseball.
Those high corporate salaries come at a price. In the meanwhile, I will be laughing every time I imagine N. “at the game with the guys.” It’s the most incongruous picture ever. Do they sell beer, at least, at those games? I hope they do because, otherwise, he might not be able to deal with the experience.
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