When we first arrived at Comerica Park on Saturday, Chris was accosted by an overly enthusiastic little man who wanted him to enter a contest to win free insulation, of all things. For some unknown reason, rather than simply walking away like a normal person*, Chris filled out the card with bogus information, including a new name: Sanchez. When Chris informed me of our name change, I immediately decided that I wanted to change my name to Isabella to match my new last name. After much contemplation & discussion, we decided that, since I am the quintessential white girl, my new, WASP-appropriate name would be Daisy Vanderhoofen Sanchez. Did I mention that the game was delayed a bit due to the rain? Rain delay = way too much free time for Chris & Shawn, obviously. I can't even claim drunkenness, although it is possible I was strung out on hot chocolate.
So anyway, about an hour later, for reasons that have since become unclear, but that I believe had something to do with a free Detroit Tigers t-shirt (approximate value: $10, max), I completed a Detroit Tigers credit card application. Since I didn't want the request to impact my credit score & I have absolutely no need or desire for another credit card (or another t-shirt, for that matter, but that's hardly the point), I decided to use my new "identity". Unfortunately, I screwed up immediately by using my old alias instead of my new & improved one. The suspicious bimbo accepting the applications was distinctly skeptical that the pale-to-the-point-of-translucency green-eyed redhead in front of her was named Isabella Sanchez (that's some form of reverse racism or something, I just can't put my finger on it) and proceeded to QUIZ me on the information in the application. The nerve! But guess what? I PASSED!! That's right, I remembered my fake name, address, ZIP code, birthday and Social Security number! Ha! Take that, distrustful Visa lady! I have trouble remembering my own cell phone number, but I can remember made-up details about my Hispanic alter ego. The brain works in mysterious ways. Regardless, this is incontrovertible proof that I still have a few working brain cells left. So, yay, me! Chris has taken great pleasure in calling me a felon, but I'll be willing to bet that won't stop him from wearing his free shirt. Crime does pay!
The next day, we checked out "GM World" on the first level of the Renaissance Center Marriott. (Seriously, the car manufacturers own EVERYthing in Detroit. Public transportation is an urban legend there.) When we got downstairs, we were greeted by a sign that expressly forbid us to eat or drink in GM World. Emboldened by my newly successful foray into the criminal world, I thought, "like they're going to kick us out for having Starbucks" & convinced Chris to ignore the sign. So we played with a 'Vette that cost more than our house, and a sexy-as-hell Solstice convertible, and an H3 that totally made me understand why people buy Hummers. We merrily toasted the security guard with our beverages and mockingly took this photo:
So anyway, about an hour later, for reasons that have since become unclear, but that I believe had something to do with a free Detroit Tigers t-shirt (approximate value: $10, max), I completed a Detroit Tigers credit card application. Since I didn't want the request to impact my credit score & I have absolutely no need or desire for another credit card (or another t-shirt, for that matter, but that's hardly the point), I decided to use my new "identity". Unfortunately, I screwed up immediately by using my old alias instead of my new & improved one. The suspicious bimbo accepting the applications was distinctly skeptical that the pale-to-the-point-of-translucency green-eyed redhead in front of her was named Isabella Sanchez (that's some form of reverse racism or something, I just can't put my finger on it) and proceeded to QUIZ me on the information in the application. The nerve! But guess what? I PASSED!! That's right, I remembered my fake name, address, ZIP code, birthday and Social Security number! Ha! Take that, distrustful Visa lady! I have trouble remembering my own cell phone number, but I can remember made-up details about my Hispanic alter ego. The brain works in mysterious ways. Regardless, this is incontrovertible proof that I still have a few working brain cells left. So, yay, me! Chris has taken great pleasure in calling me a felon, but I'll be willing to bet that won't stop him from wearing his free shirt. Crime does pay!
The next day, we checked out "GM World" on the first level of the Renaissance Center Marriott. (Seriously, the car manufacturers own EVERYthing in Detroit. Public transportation is an urban legend there.) When we got downstairs, we were greeted by a sign that expressly forbid us to eat or drink in GM World. Emboldened by my newly successful foray into the criminal world, I thought, "like they're going to kick us out for having Starbucks" & convinced Chris to ignore the sign. So we played with a 'Vette that cost more than our house, and a sexy-as-hell Solstice convertible, and an H3 that totally made me understand why people buy Hummers. We merrily toasted the security guard with our beverages and mockingly took this photo:
And then, literally 1 minute later, this one:
Divine retribution? Perhaps. All I'm going to say is that I wasn't the one who spilled it. In any case, I am taking this as a warning and my short criminal career is officially over. I'm sure the law enforcement community is very grateful.
* It has occurred to me that this is a "people in glass houses . . ." situation.
* It has occurred to me that this is a "people in glass houses . . ." situation.
Labels: wanderings
3 Comments:
You spilled, and I wasn't even around to instigate it. It's so good to know you have other klutzes in your life...
It amazes me that your memory gets better as you get older. I do recall that when we went to POGO's and I was questioned what year I was born, we were in and had the first drink before you had the math done to see if I was right....
Yes, well, my math skills have always been a bit . . . unreliable, let's say. (Sounds better than completely & utterly nonexistant.) But my memory is just fine, thanks!
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