Well, the Bret Runestad 2002 Goodwill Tour has officially been cancelled after its first and only stop. Oh, it had such potential! I was going to revolutionize the world by bringing friendliness and joy to major venues across the country. Oh sure there were opponents to my efforts, naysayers who refused to believe that one man could change this crazy world. “Nay!” they would say. But I never listened! And so I strode up to Shea Stadium, home of the New York Mets, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in May, ready to bring joy into the hearts of all I encountered.
My theory? That simply by smiling, waving, and saying “hey” to complete strangers, I could bring some happiness into their day – happiness that would spread like wildfire in a Smokey the Bear-less forest and change the world!
As I took my seat I encountered an immediate problem. I was in the back row of the section! Nobody could even see me! There was no way for the masses to see my smiles and waves. After smiling and waving eight times to the family of four seated next to me, the two small children were promptly swept up by the arms of their parents and taken to sit in another section.
I panicked for a moment, until I realized that I could easily get the attention of probably the most stressed and unhappy group of people at the game:
The Vendors!
I quickly spotted a man selling pretzels walking by the far aisle, somewhat out of earshot but easily in sight.
With a bright smile and a wave I called out “Hey there!”
Success! He turned with a look of interest towards me.
I waved a second time.
He looked mildly confused. With an inquisitive look he began to hold up fingers. One? Two? Three?
I beamed back at him and held up my finger to signify that he was definitely #1 in my book.
The exchange clearly finished, he turned back to his pretzels and I surveyed the rest of the crowd for my next chance to spread the good news of Bret. Imagine my surprise when the person five seats down signals my attention and leans to hand me a pretzel that had been passed down the aisle.
I had expected results, but nothing so quick or dramatic! In exchange for my simple kindness I had already received the gift of a soft pretzel. Now, he’d gone a little heavy on the salt but I wasn’t going to complain and overall it looked rather tasty.
“Hey, the guy wants his money. Hurry up, you’re making me miss the game.”
I looked up, befuddled, across the recently vacated territory of the young family.
“Pardon?”
“C’mon Einstein, pass your money along, you’re distracting me from the game.”
Well, the details of my ensuing explanation of how the pretzel was a gift are superfluous. The details of my ensuing argument with security and ejection from the stadium as various condiments were jettisoned in my direction by surrounding fans is not necessarily superfluous but instead just extremely embarrassing.
All you really need to know is that the Bret Runestad 2002 Goodwill Tour is over and I, for one, am never again going to watch Patch Adams while hopped up on caffeine and skittles. Apparently, by order of Shea Stadium I won’t be catching any more Mets home games either.