Last Friday the Atlanta Braves retired number 47 in honor of Tom Glavine — one of the great pitchers of our (well, my) day. It was a warm and typically humid August night and I was accompanied by the Howard-Barrs. Good time in spite of a long rain delay.
All of that is just the setting for what ended up being a rather upsetting milestone in my life. I’m sitting there, innocent enough with my now lukewarm beer, somewhere behind Heyward. Someone behind me says “ma’am” and I turned around. Let me put that on its own line so you grasp the importance.
I turned around when someone said Ma’am.
Now, I don’t know. Maybe some of you are thinking “it’s nice people are respectful”, but really that’s not the issue. The fact is that I’m at an age where I just automatically respond to Ma’am. To really make matters worse, they weren’t even talking to me.
Ah, maturity. It brings out some of my more immature emotions.