6.4

I’m at the airport, heading back to the Old World via Atlanta. It’s going to be a long day.

Meanwhile, last Friday night I participated in the typical traditional fall activity. I went to a high school football game.

The evening was cool and crisp and after borrowing a sweatshirt, I felt like a local fan, to the point that I was offered a flyer as I entered the stadium, encouraging me to vote in today’s election..

I’d forgotten how these games are more like a 3-Ring Circus. The two teams were pushing each other up and down the field. Cheerleaders were jumping up and down—sometimes whilst chanting relevant things. The band contributed its sounds, while behind us a grill was going and fundraising food was for sale.

Honestly, I didn’t always know where to look.

And because the school was located in a speech-impediment/strong accent zone, I couldn’t understand the cheerleaders. Midway through the first quarter I turned to my friend and asked, “What does six point four mean?”

It took awhile, but after she finished laughing she explained, like she was talking to a child, “It’s not six point four, it’s six points more.”

The rest of the evening, I was reminded of my stupidity, which I deserved.