Wonders
On the way to work I pass a whirlyball stadium, which, if you don’t know what whirlyball is, it’s like basketball, except you’re in bumper cars, and instead of carrying a basketball you have those little handled scoop throwers and a whiffle ball, and it is played in a small industrial warehouse in an office park. But basically it’s a pretty simple variation on basketball.
Anyway, so I’m driving by and the parking lot is full. At nine a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Full. Now, there could be a professional whirlyballers convention in town, but my guess is that these cars belong to the employees, which then leads one to the following ruminations:
a) how many employees could it possibly require to run a successful whirlyball stadium?
b) why does a whirlyball stadium need to open for business at nine a.m.?
c) do people really play whirlyball anymore, because the only time I ever played was at Dave Ecklund’s eleventh birthday party in 1900, back when gum cost a nickel and whores were free?
d) how do people who work at a whirlyball stadium afford to own a car?
e) do you think that the employees of the whirlyball stadium have an arrangement with the employees of the local Chi Chi’s by which the whirlyball stadium employees can get free chimichangas and fried ice cream in exchange for letting Team Sombrero play after-hours for as long as they want?
Then I got to work and was like “this is a place of business, not philosophy, so put your questions away and also put your yogurt away, in the fridge, before it gets lumpy.”