Mom and Dad have come and gone. It was nice to see them, as always. Although there were plenty of good moments, Mom and I have concluded that the following was, without a doubt, the highlight of the visit:
At the French Open, Mom and I decided to play risky and see if we could buy tickets once we got there. There had been no pre-planning whatsoever. The idea was to chalk up life to chance and to fly by the seat of our pants. Our adventurous decision was met with a resounding "No more tickets!" once we got to the ticket office, and our tennis dreams were shattered.
Walking back to the metro, we were offered numerous tickets by shady characters with cardboard signs. Mom suggested we discuss prices with some of them, but I shrugged off her decision. After Mom's wallet got stolen last year, I was terribly afraid of getting screwed over by Rolland Garros fake-ticket-selling scam artists.
But Mom would have none of that. She marched right up to one of them and asked how much, while I hung back in the distance. Naturally, her new friend didn't speak English, and reinforcements (me) were called in.
So we settled on a price and walked to the cash machine with Habib, our new-found ticket connection with extremely slick hair. He pretended we didn't know him the entire way, playing the game cool as can be. After the sale was complete, he gave us his cell phone number in case we wanted tickets for the final. I think finals tickets were going for a mere 1,000 euro per seat.
Dreams of expensive finals aside, Mom and I were just happy to get spots to the qualifying matches. Our seats were fourth row, and I got to watch both of my boyfriends (Kuerten and Safin) play, in two seperate matches. One won, one lost. And one threw a few temper tantrums, too, but I'll let you guess which one it was. I later told my dad that watching a tennis player throw his racket down in anger is as exciting as watching a fight at a hockey game.
It was great. Did you know that when a player does a perfect lift at the net, the crowd is so quiet that you can actually hear the ball spinning? The Brazilians behind us kept a running Portugese commentary, and I thought about hushing them as if they were in a library. I didn't do it, but their chatter was certainly disruptive to the general tennis calm. Overall, I like the tennis crowd: quiet and considerate most of the time, but brilliantly excitable when the moment calls for it.
At any rate, now I'm hooked. I can't believe Kuerten was ousted by Nalbandian today. Desperate to watch the quaterfinals, and regretting, for the first time, that I don't have cable, I stood in the television department of the electronics store for at least twenty minutes in order to watch the game. I also tried on shoes in the sports store for at least 40 minutes today without taking my eye off the television set they had perched on one of the store shelves. The worker already must have thought I was weird, because I later realized that I had spinach stuck in my teeth from the quiche I had eaten earlier. Fortunately, I decided to leave before Kuerten's tragic fall was official. I left originally because I was starting to feel that 40 minutes was a bit long to stay in the shoe store, but in the end it was for the best. I only feel ok about Kuerten's defeat because Nalbandian beat Safin on Monday, which means he's responsable for both my boyfriends' elimination. And that makes me think he's my new boyfriend even if he's not all that cute. I will support him in the semis.
Meanwhile, I am already preparing to buy massive amounts of tickets for next year. I will watch most of the matches, and I fully plan on making banners to support my favorite players and maybe get on Eurosport. But for those matches I deem unworthy of my attendance, I will stand outside the stadium with a piece of cardboard and will sell the tickets for three times their actual price. I'm sure I can find some desperate American women - hopefully life-long tennis fans - who will be willing to pay the price.
I have also decided, without any guilt or complexes whatsoever, that I will bring down my television from its storage space on top of my closet this weekend. I will plug it in on Saturday. I will adjust the antenna so as to best see the tennis ball on my fuzzy, fuzzy screen. I will watch both the men's and women's singles finals - one for each day of the weekend. I will not think about the fact that I have several exams coming up this week. I will enjoy the matches instead.
And next year, I will enjoy them courtside.
personal loans Heh. How it goes? Buy it all. ASAP. Last discount in your live (AAAAA!!!!!). Take a rest.