Sarah thinks about offering couples therapy after a Cardinal game.

Aren't we cute?

Good afternoon!

As many of you know, Hubby and I went to St. Louis this past weekend to see Peaches and Junior.  We had a great time and I really wanted to just pack Peaches in a suitcase and bring her home because I miss her, but for some reason she wanted to stay there.  (Probably some dumb reason like she LOVES Junior or something.  Whatever.)

Anyway, we did a couple of touristy things:  We went up into the St. Louis Arch. Yes, you can go all the way up to the top and look out over St. Louis on one side and some parts of Illinois on the other.  Some people will say they wouldn't do that because of the heights. I'm here to tell you the HEIGHT is not the scariest part of the St. Louis Arch.  It's GETTING TO THE TOP that's...unpleasant.

First of all, you do a lot of walking, A LOT OF WALKING, to get to the place where you buy tickets. Then you do a lot more walking to get to the place that's actually the arch.  Fun fact, you can buy tickets at the arch, you don't have to buy tickets ahead or buy them at the old courthouse, like we were instructed.  You can just walk up to a booth in the shadow of the arch and buy tickets.  A travel tip from me to you.

Once inside the tower (and you can pick, north or south, not that it matters) you walk some more...thing time down. Down, down, down until you're 50 feet underground.  

That's the first thing they tell you once the tour starts:  You're 50 feet underground.  I didn't hear much after that.  My brain was trying not to implode with the idea that I was going to die, buried beneath 5 stories of dirt under a National Monument.

But then that's when it gets really creepy. In  order to go from 50 feet underground to 630 feet in the air, you have two choices:  Stairs or the tram.

Well, hey, stairs.....no.  They don't actually let you take the stairs.  Nope, we are in modern times now
my friend, we take the tram.

This, but with four other people.

The TRAM is a tiny egg (Like in "Mork and Mindy," Mork's egg) that they cram 5 people into and then shut a door. There is no natural light. 

For those of us who do not care for tiny spaces (and that would be me) this is something akin to torture.  

Now, Junior made a point. He said, "Well, it's four minutes up and three minutes down."

I asked why a shorter ride down.

He said, "Because, gravity."

Yep, I was pretty sure I was going to die in a tiny egg flying down from 630 feet in the air.

I'm not afraid of heights and I love roller coasters. But with roller coasters, you can see where you're going.  In  the egg all you could see was the faces of the people jammed in there with you.

Obviously I survived, and I did really enjoy the arch once we were at the top.  But, I'm pretty sure I'm good now. I can check that box and move on to something else.

But THAT'S not why I'm writing the blog.

Nope, on Saturday Hubby and I took Peaches and Junior to a St. Louis Cardinals Baseball game.

The stadium is beautiful, the people are nice and the home team won.  It wasn't even that hot.  For all the times Peaches has said how hot and humid it is down there, I have to say, the weather wasn't terrible.  Of course, today I believe it's something like 100 degrees, but Saturday was nice.

But I'm not even writing today to tell you about the game. I'm writing to tell you about what happened on the sidewalk AFTER THE GAME.

It's a true, "It can only happen to Sarah" moment.

We were leaving the stadium along with about 44000 of our newest friends.  The downtown area was already busy so I held on to Hubby's hand as we made our way along the sidewalks. We had several blocks to walk,   I didn't want to lose my group.

A lot of the people rode down to the game in tour buses so by the time we'd gone a few blocks, the crowd had thinned and I was able to walk next to Hubby.  Still held on to his hand, but he wasn't leading (dragging) me so much as we were strolling along, following Peaches and Junior back to the car.  

That's when it happened.

This guy, just a normal looking guy, sidles up next to me. He's probably 30 but he looks like a frat boy.  He's just walking next to me, no big deal.  Then he says, "I'm glad to see you're happy in your relationship."

I slowed down and looked at him.  Next to him was a woman, about his age, somewhere in that 25-30 range.  From the expression on her face, I was guessing they were together, but she was less than happy with him.   Clearly, one of them was the designated non drinker and one of them drank for two.

"Yeah, I'm really happy for you guys."

This time I noted Mr. Frat Boy was slurring his words big time.

Ok, I thought, I'll play along.  "Yes, we are happy.  Been together a long time."

"Yeah, my old lady is pissed at me for something."

Gee, wonder why.  Getting hammered and talking to strangers about your relationship doesn't strike me as something she'd like.  Maybe calling her old isn't sitting well with her either.

"So yeah, it's nice to see someone's happy."

"Get in the bus!"

Hubby and I tried very hard not to laugh.

Frat guy said something else, but the only other thing I heard was, "GET. ON. THE. BUS."


They peeled off the flow of people and got onto a bus. I sort of wish I could have continued that conversation.  There's so much I would love to have told him, you know, to help him be happy in his relationship. Simple things like, 

1)  Don't get falling down drunk in public.
2) If you do get falling down drunk in public, don't talk to anyone, just be quiet and go home.
3) For the love of God if you get falling down drunk in public and CAN'T be quiet, do NOT try to strike up a conversation with a BLOGGER about how bad your relationship is when your lady love is standing right there trying to make sure you don't fall down and get trampled before you get to the bus.

I would have told him that.

Gee, I wonder if she's still mad at him.

I probably should have told him to buy her flowers in the morning.