ANOTHER FUN DAY IN THE SUN

                The older I get, the less I like crowds. But then again, I also try to follow that inspirational slogan about our aging bodies and minds:  “Don’t let the old man in.”

                So when my wife and I found ourselves near Palm Springs last Friday, we decided to attend the day session of the BNP Paribas Open, a two-week long professional tennis tournament for both men and women that is considered the “fifth major,” along with the French, Australian, Wimbledon and the U.S. Open.

                Predictably, the old man came barging through the door.

                “DOESN’T ANYONE WORK ANYMORE??!!” I cried as we sat in a ridiculously long line of cars waiting to get into the parking lot. “It’s 11:00 on a Friday! Who are all these people?”

                It took over an hour to enter the parking lot. The old man was steaming, realizing that an event during the day, midweek, was not going to be the walk in the park he thought it would be.

                “I guess this is what happens when everyone works remotely,” my wife patiently explained. “They all take the day off.”

                Whatever. It was a zoo, and despite my misgivings, we trudged with the hordes onto the grounds of the event at the Indian Wells Tennis Center, where eight different stadium courts were hosting second round matches.

                We had “grounds” tickets, which were for the common people. No reserved seating, like the elites. We waited in a line to get into Stadium Two, where one of the featured matches was playing

                Naturally, there were no seats available, even in the rafters. Actually, there was one, and my wife grabbed it, leaving me to sit in the aisle, where I lasted about 10 minutes before an usher motioned for me to leave.

                My wife pointed to a seat a row below her, next to a Millennial whose companion had not yet returned. I politely asked him if I could sit there until his wife or girlfriend came back.

                “I don’t think so,” he replied.

                I was incredulous, especially when I learned from someone nearby that his companion had been gone for over an hour. “I’ll get up if and when she comes back,” I said again.

                “No.”

                Grumpy Grandpa was not happy with the Millennial. I quickly surmised his wife or girlfriend had realized what a jerk she was hanging with and had left him for good, and I told him so.

                I motioned to my wife that we had to leave because of this selfish idiot. And now Grumpy Grandma let him have it. It’s amazing how oblivious you can be to others around you when you lose your cool. But the guy didn’t flinch with our torrent of insults, and we sulkily left the stadium.

                Time for lunch. Plenty of options, all with lines a mile long. I found a “grab and go” place without a line and bought an ugly looking packaged sandwich, a bag of chips and a water. Cost: $32.00. Grumpy Grandpa was getting grumpier.

                My wife avoids processed stuff, so she grabbed $50.00 out of my wallet and went in search of finer food. 30 minutes later, she found me. She was still foodless.

                “I waited 20 minutes in line to find out the whole place only takes credit cards,” said Grumpy Grandma, taking my credit card. “I give up. I’ll eat the garbage you sometimes eat.”

                She got her “grab and go” and we then walked into Stadium 6, where we knew some seats were available because no one wanted to watch some players whose names they couldn’t pronounce.

                My personal favorite name was Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova, but others were in the running. Pavlyuchenkova wasn’t playing, but we watched a women’s match of names I’ll never remember and a men’s match of names I’ll never remember, all under a blistering sun. And that was enough.

                It was 3:00. We were sweating from the heat, and weren’t all that excited about watching Svitolina and Siniakova in the next match. More importantly, we wanted to beat the crowd out of the parking lot.

                “I’m never going to an event again,” Grumpy Grandpa said to Grumpy Grandma as we trudged back to our car.

                She was nowhere close to letting the old woman into her body and mind. “It was just a bad day,” she said. “We have to plan better.”

                The old man was not only in my mind, he was delighted to be there. “Have fun,” I said. “I’ll look for you on television.”

Contact Nick at nickhoppe61@gmail.com. For archived issues, visit www.hoppecolumns.com