Yesterday I told you about a near disaster involving World Series tickets in 1978. Today, another ticket mishap.
It was, probably, the summer of 1979. We lived in Santa Monica and were attending a rare day game at Dodger Stadium. We got all the way to the stadium and into the parking lot and a parking spot. When my ex grabbed for the tickets, they weren’t in his pocket. He checked the glove box of the car. Not there. Behind the visor? Not there. He asked if he had given me the tickets. Nope. He had forgotten them at home. Luckily, I didn’t get blamed for it. Tickets were his responsibility. So there we went, driving back to Santa Monica for the tickets. And because it was a weekday, in the very early afternoon, there was no traffic so we were able to make it back to the stadium in time to catch the bottom of the first inning.
After that, it became kind of a joke. Before leaving home, I always asked, “Do you have the tickets?” Chuckle. Chuckle.