I had the opportunity a few weeks ago to attend the World Series when the Dodgers played in LA. Normally, I find baseball intolerably boring but the series had set itself up to be pretty entertaining. We were given tickets to game 2 and I didn’t think twice about going. Joe was stoked because his former pitching coach from high school, Brent Strom, was the pitching coach for the Astros. (this was fun because Joe called almost every pitch) Since we were going to a sporting event it didn’t occur to me that I might be walking into an upsetting situation. My Dr prescribed anti-anxiety meds which I take as needed (turns out I don’t know when I need them) and which I did not take that evening. Big mistake. I was fine right up until we got to the entrance of the stadium and then a fighter jet did a pass overhead that startled me considerably.
Me = Cat, Toaster = Jet. Not cool.
But I managed to put a vice grip on Joe’s hand and walk in anyway. Stupid jets.
We walked into the crowded tunnel around the stadium, noisy people and cops all around . Now this was a normal crowd of excited fans but my brain couldn’t get past the crowd, cops and noise. Instead my mind went back to the last place I’d seen lots of cops with people running around yelling. I essentially lost my shit. So I did what any girl would do and went to the safe zone that is the bathroom for a bit. I was determined to get through this anxiety attack without having to leave the game. I came back out after about 10 or 200 minutes and went to get a beer. I didn’t have my anxiety meds on me, so next best thing, right?
We found our seats and sat down. Joe put his phone in my hand. A phone streaming with the longest compilation of cat fails ever. The man knows me well. I watched cats falling off tables while I sipped my beer. I tried not to look around because the steep stadium seating with the limited exits really freaked me out. It felt like a very familiar fish bowl that I didn’t want to be in. I texted S and M ( we have an ongoing group text that for a long time was a day by day check-in to see if any of us were spiraling *not into a weird sex fetish, that is just their initials. geeezz) it was my turn to freak out and for them to talk me off the ledge. S always goes back to the “what are the odds of something like that happening to us again” reasoning. But as I looked around, my head was saying ” UMM PRETTY DAMN GOOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SET-UP??? IT IS LITERALLY SHAPED LIKE A FISHBOWL ?!?”
After another beer and more videos and texts. I finally started to calm down. And wouldn’t you know it the baseball game actually started to get interesting. The volley of home runs had started and I was distracted finally.
Game 2 Dodgers vs Astros – probably around the 8th inning-ish #instagramlife
That experience was so awesome ( I mean that both sarcastically and literally) that we decided to go see Game 7 as well. That time I was prepared and knew what to expect. Also appropriately medicated. I felt better too because the seats were in the open versus being in the loge under cover. The bummer part of the evening was that the game SUCKED.
Great Seats, Crap Game
This experience helped me realize how real my PTSD is from Vegas. I’ve also become much more aware of my surroundings, noting exits and potential escape routes in crowded areas. Now Joe points out all of the bullet proof areas of the airport…I don’t know if that helps or hurts.