Game Day

I'm sure that I've mentioned the fact that my family lives in very close proximity to Qualcomm Stadium, where the poo-poo stinky Chargers play. When we first moved to this area, the poo-poo stinky Padres played there as well, and that was a big fat pain in the bum because the thing about living close to MLB or NFL anything is TRAFFIC. Because baseball games fall all over the days of the week and times of the day, there were incidences of forgetting, which meant paying the consequence inside a car full of toddlers. Football is much easier to manage and also much more of a spectacle. Home games are pretty fun around the neighborhood, it's festive and crowded and profitable.

Yes, profitable.

Especially on a hot Sunday afternoon when the game winds down and the fans start their trek up The Hill.

The Hill is formidable, it takes just about all that Westy has in her to haul ass up that sucker, and she has an engine.

These poor fools are under the power of their own  legs. By the time they approach the top, they are sweating and thirsty. That's where these gallant guys step in:

See my boy up there doing the dirty work while his dad supervises drinks beer?

Now Dad's pulling his weight. He did all the leg works and purchasing, natch. 

Wait, what's this on his face? A smile?

Gimmee dat money

Not everyone was smiling on this day. Bill had used the elusive back gate to run down with chairs for the bev sale, and this poor bastard was soooo confused.

Duuuuuuude, where'd you go?

"Seriously, the hell?"

Those walkers were so nicely refreshed by the time they made it all the way up here to their cars, parked safely in my driveway. Profitable.

When the boys sold out and made their way back home, there were smiles all around.

And an absurdly awesome pile of cash.

All in a day's play.