Back in the eighties we used to go to a lot of Giants games at windy Candlestick Park. One season our seats were in a section in the right field corner, just above the home bullpen. There was always something in the air at the 'Stick, and it wasn't always baseballs. It was more likely to be hot dog wrappers and plastic grocery bags swirling above your head.
This section where we sat that year was like the clogged entry to a drain. It was where all this swirling garbage ended up. Those would have been great seats if all the garbage in San Francisco hadn't ended up there.
That's what today felt like. Here I am two days away from vacation and all the crap that's been swirling over my head was caught in a downdraft and dumped on me. Emergency, crisis, crisis, near-miss, crisis, emergency. In more or less that order. It's not over yet, of course, because there's one more day. I just can't wait to see what tomorrow is full of.
After that season we moved back to the upper deck. When you sit that high at the 'Stick, the garbage swirls below you. You have to look around and through it to see the field sometimes, but at least it rarely lands on you. Now that the Giants have moved to Pacific Bell Park, we take whatever seats we can get, but the wind is less brutal there anyway.