As of this week, skiing on the mountain is restricted to weekends only, so there is no longer an option to skip the resort lift lines. Avoiding crowds is one of the key benefits of retirement. I no longer have to face the traffic hassles of trying to get to and from work, or shop at times when everyone else is there. I can stay home if I like, or simply wait until the rush hour is over. I have never liked waiting in line or for stop-lights, and these are two great reasons to be retired.

I have always gone for my daily run early in the morning when there is no traffic and few people to get in the way. I enjoy the quiet solitude and sometimes even the darkness. I don’t want others to judge my running form, especially since I have slowed to the shuffling gait of an old man, and the cover of darkness is always welcome. I don’t like reporting to a gym where misery loves company, or running with a companion. I especially don’t enjoy running on crowded streets, but this happens sometimes when I’m staying in downtown hotels while traveling. I’m very self conscious about being watched, and initially started running because I could hide along the trails in the woods behind our home. It doesn’t matter now because it’s something that I have to do every day and nothing can get in the way.

Sometimes I get caught off-guard dealing with crowds. Last night I went to a college baseball game with a couple of friends, and certainly didn’t expect it to be a hassle. There was a big turn-out and absolutely no traffic control. I bought an advance parking pass hoping that might help, but struggled for more than an hour with traffic lights, pedestrians, and bicyclists just trying to get to the lot. In my younger years, this was all part of the experience of being there. It was expected and tolerated when you went to an event. I have lost that patience, and if it weren’t for my passenger I would have been yelling and screaming for everyone to get out of my way. I was somehow able to control my road rage since I was being watched. My friend admitted that he would have been the same way if I weren’t in the car with him. It was horrible just getting to the ballpark.

Once we finally got there, I deposited my friend at the front gate, so I could properly vent while beginning the frustrating search for a parking spot. Once again, there was no one directing traffic and there were a lot of angry late arrivals like myself that were circling the lots, delayed after similar troubles getting into the park. The game was already into the third inning by the time I found an empty spot in the gravel, about a mile from the entrance. Fortunately, there were porta-johns near the parking lots to relieve the other pressure building inside me. By the fourth inning, I found my seat and watched a couple of pitches. We were directly in the hot sun, and the cold beer waiting for me had turned luke-warm. The lines to the concession stands were outrageous, as they were obviously short on help. At one point, I waited a half-hour for reciprocating beers, and then another forty-five minutes for hot dogs. They soon announced they had run out of buns, so I was lucky to get one.  By the way, my hot dog fell on the concrete surface below our bleacher seat, so I tried to pretend that the grittiness was just pepper.  The seventh-inning stretch called for a bathroom break, and once again there were long lines running outside both the entry and exit doors. By that time, they stopped serving beer, so there was no line to get  a nacho snack. Finally after spending most of the game in traffic or waiting lines, it was time to leave.

Honestly, it was easier to take a plane, bus, train, and three Uber rides to see the game in Anaheim, than it was to go the 10 miles to get to this one. The beer and hot dogs were much cheaper, but it lacked Major League organization. In Anaheim, there was traffic control, no waiting lines awkwardly extending across foot-traffic walkways, and plenty of restrooms. For this college clash, organizers were obviously not used to managing crowds and were unprepared, making everyone’s experience miserable.

Take me out…and away from this ball game! I hate crowds, and by the time I got home I was exhausted. The stadium only holds 5,000 people, so I was not in any way expecting a hassle like this. I had pre-paid for parking and planned on being there a half-hour early rather than an hour late. It does not make me want to go back, even if it is baseball.