To be fair, this IS probably the best way to watch the Cubs this year.I’ve been hesitant to post this, but I think I’d like some opinions on a weird incident in which I was involved last week. Since this is the internet, you guys should be used to having your opinions not matter to anyone, but here it goes, anyhow.

The missus and I headed down to Wrigley Field last Wednesday for what we expected would be a pleasant evening of Cubs baseball. Rather, we expected the weather to be pleasant, and the baseball to be terrible.

We arrived at our seats approximately a half hour prior to the first pitch. Let me correct that. We arrived at one of our seats, and then the seat adjacent to our pair of seats. You see, an older woman was sitting in one of our seats next to whom I later discovered was her brother. Not wanting to cause a scene, the missus and I took a pair of seats about two over from the older pair. Unfortunately for us, the people who had purchased those seats soon arrived at the game, and we were forced to move down. I pointed out to the older couple that they were technically sitting in one of our seats. The older man denied it, but I pointed out that his sister was quite clearly sitting in seat 112 and my ticket quite clearly said 112.

The fact that he was arguing that he was in the right seat turned out to be astonishingly stupid. He was well aware of the fact that the seats he had purchased were immediately to the left and immediately to the right of our seats. He seemed very upset about the fact that I had the nerve to purchase two seats adjacent to one another in February.

For the sake of avoiding (or adding) confusion, here is a pictorial representation of the seating arrangements down the third-base line at Wrigley (just imagine the seats to the right of the missus and I are filled).





Oh, and I forgot to add a key element.





I was okay with sitting in the technically-not-mine seat until I actually sat down and looked up. From where I was seated, to the far right of this arrangement, I could see the batter, but not the pitcher. Since we were at Wrigley, I wanted to be able to see the pitcher when I wasn’t busy making cell phone calls or saying “bro.”

I suggested that the couple switch seats with us, because I could not see the pitcher, and technically both of the seats I had purchased had unobstructed views of the pitcher and the batter. The old man’s response was, “Oh, you don’t want these seats. You can’t see the pitcher, but I can’t see the batter.” I thought this odd, since the missus could see both the batter and the pitcher from her seat, and the perspective couldn’t change THAT much from one seat to the next, but I let it go. For now.

By about the time of the National Anthem, the missus could see that I was getting pretty upset about the seating arrangement, so she suggested saying something to the older guy. Since the folks to the couple’s left had not yet arrived, I suggested that the couple move down a seat so the missus and I could have our seats. The ones I paid for in February. The ones with an unimpeded view of the pitcher and the batter.

The older man grumbled, but agreed to move down to a different seat that wasn’t his. The missus, clever vixen that she is, perked up her ears just in time to catch him mumble under his breath, “Can you see NOW?” Pretending to assume the old man was being considerate instead of just being an asshole, the missus turned to him with a brilliant smile and said, “Why, yes, he can, thank you!”

Here’s the situation now. The missus and I are in our correct seats with a clear view of the action. The older couple is in one of their correct seats to our left, but their other, obstructed seat to our right remains empty. Presumably, the old man can’t see the batter. Because that’s what he told me.

Suddenly, the folks to the left of us arrive, and here’s where it gets chippy.

I didn’t say anything, nor was I asked to move back into the obstructed not-my-seat. Instead, the older lady climbs over the missus and me and takes the obstructed seat to my right. In arguably the most juvenile move pulled by a person over the age of 50, the brother and sister begin to sarcastically wave to one another over the missus and me. They also start saying things like, “How is it over there?”

I ignore it at first, but then I overhear the old man saying to the woman behind him, “It’s hard to get seats next to one another at Wrigley.” Some might say IMPOSSIBLE! I thought, as I sat adjacent to my wife in our seats at Wrigley. “I’ve done this before, and it’s usually never been a problem, but, you know, some people.”

At that point, I turned to him and said, “All right, man. You don’t have to be a prick about it. I want an unobstructed view of the game, and I PAID for an unobstructed view of the game. It’s not my fault that you couldn’t get two seats together.” I then kindly pointed out that instead of acting like an “asshole,” he could have had his sister plop down in the seat directly in front of him. Unobstructed views for all, and they can still carry on a conversation.

He decided he’d rather argue with me, though. Finally, I said, “Can you see the pitcher from that seat?” “Yes,” he replied. “Can you see the batter?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. Infuriated, I pointed out that he had lied to us about not being able to see the batter before, and he and I switched seats so he could sit next to his sister.

As the game progressed, I got up to meet flannj, who had gotten my attention by yelling “KERM!” and thrusting a Chicago Now sign in my direction. When I got up, the old man apparently noticed the ESSIAN #41 jersey I was wearing (thanks, Dolan) and asked the missus about it while I was gone. She told him about the site, and he immediately changed his tune. The missus suspects that he misunderstood and thought I have some sort of actual media credentials, or something.

For whatever reason, by the time I got back, he was completely apologetic and explained that his sister was in from out of town and they just wanted to see the game, etc. The apology initially made me hesitant to post the whole ordeal, but then I got to thinking. This dude caused the whole problem by (1) lying about the sight lines from his seat, (2) talking shit about me in a too-loud voice to the woman behind us, and (3) NOT SACKING UP AND PAYING STUBHUB FOR TWO SEATS TOGETHER IN THE FIRST PLACE. If your sister only comes in for one game a year, just pay the extra $20 a seat, you cheap bastard.

Am I way out of line here? The guy was seriously trying to make ME feel like the asshole for wanting to sit in my seats. The ONLY issue I had with moving was that it meant the difference between seeing the pitcher or not seeing the pitcher. When do you draw the line between courtesy and wanting to see the game?