Nebraska was not on the original itinerary, but the Husband had never actually been in Nebraska. Me, being the worldly person I am, had driven thru part of Nebraska as a child. So when he realized that Omaha was “on the way” between Des Moines (now Ames) and Kansas CIty, AND that the Omaha Storm Chasers were playing, AND that we could visit Nebraska Brewing (the only Nebraska Craft Brewery even on our radar), it was a done deal that we would cross the Missouri River and go to Omaha. Besides, I like bridges.
Getting to Omaha took a tad longer than expected because A) we decided not to take the N-S interstate back to Des Moines but rather smaller roads west before heading south to the E-W interstate and B) I was driving. Husband often fails to factor in that I adhere more closely to the speed limit than he does.
Before reaching Omaha, we decided that the hotel check-in would have to happen after both the brewery visit and the ballgame.
With very little navigational differences of opinion, or any wrong turns, we arrived at the Nebraska Brewing tap room. By this point in the trip, husband was really in the mood for some serious beer conversation so he/we had a seat at the bar. The two bartenders were chatty. The guy next to us was the “regular.” A good tap room should always have a “regular.” I think that being the “regular” is going to be the husband’s second career. Sadly, most of the “regular”s that we have met are divorced, so I’m not quite sure how this is working into the husband’s future plans. Maybe we could be the first “couple-o-regulars.” Also the owner stopped by to chat. The husband made new friends by spreading Texas beer love (and making room in the ice chests.)
It (OBVIOUSLY) came up in conversation that we were on a beer and baseball road trip and that we were headed to the Storm Chasers game. They said, “Hey, that’s great. You can see the stadium from the back of the brewery.” The husband was (very) briefly speechless. THIS WAS NOT AT ALL WHERE HE THOUGHT THE STADIUM WAS. I thumped him. But after recovering, and realizing that perhaps our hotel location was no longer optimum, he consoled himself with the realization that he had time to order another beer.
Then some of the folks in the tap room said, “Hey, maybe we’ll see you at the game. We’ll be heading out soon for the 6:30 start.” THIS WAS NOT THE TIME WHEN HE THOUGHT THE GAME WAS SUPPOSED TO START. I thumped him again. Harder.
By the time we finished out beer, picked out a few to bring back to Texas with us, paid out tab, AND ENTERED THE CORRECT STADIUM INTO THE NAVIGATION PROGRAM, we ended up missing a batter or two.
Karma was mixed about how to deal with our ineptitude. The Storm Chasers won, but the husband snagged nary a ball nor a Tshirt. But as we were leaving the stadium, he did get this: