One of my summer pleasures is going to Rockies games at Coors Field. I'm somewhat surprised that I've become such a fan, as I was raised as a child to loathe and abominate all sports, whether as participant or spectator. But then I went to one Rockies game with my sister and her husband when they were visiting from New Jersey, and it was tons of fun. I have to confess that my favorite part has nothing to do with watching the game itself: it's singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in the 7th inning stretch. I'm also partial to the singing of the National Anthem. And the part where the crowd gets to vote, via applause meter, for which song to hear played during a break between innings.
My least favorite part is driving home. For some reason, although we drive to Coors Field with ease, I have never figured out how to get home from there. So what we do is just turn on some random street (a different random street each time, in hopes of a better outcome this time around) and drive through deserted stretches of Denver (lots of warehouses and empty parking lots) for a long time until I somehow stumble upon a chance to get on I-70. I make a wild guess at which direction is the one I want, to take me to I-25, and from there, I can figure out the rest.
But this last time, when we went to see the Rockies play the Cardinals, my son Gregory surprised me by telling me, "What you want to do is turn right on 20th Street." Why 20th Street? Why right? I didn't ask. I just obeyed. He had obviously done some research ahead of time. And sure enough, RIGHT AWAY there was an on-ramp to the HOV lane for I-25. We were home in no time flat.
This might be a breakthrough for me. Sometimes when you have a problem, there is a solution to the problem. And if you make a small effort to find the solution, something that has been a constant source of low-grade irritation in your life disappears, just like that. This might even work for something that is a source of major stress and anxiety.
I'm going to explore this more and get back to you on it.
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