“May I help you?”
“Is this where I can buy Mets tickets?”
“Yes it is.”
“Great. I'd like two for Friday night, September 12 against the Braves.”
“We have those.”
“Say, if it rains, can I come anyway?”
“Absolutely.”
“And can I sit and wait for a couple of hours?”
“We encourage it.”
“If there's no realistic chance the game will be played, can I wait around for a good long time anyhow?”
“We're set up to accommodate that.”
“And can you make me think there's the slightest chance they'll play — like, can you make an announcement once or twice to that effect?”
“We'll do it in such a way that you'll think we're looking at a radar of Tahiti as opposed to Flushing.”
“Oh, and after you show an old highlight film or two, can you just slap some corporate logo up on DiamondVision so there's nothing to watch amid the tedium?”
“That's standard operating procedure.”
“And you're sure I can just sit as if a game is going to start soon even though the tarp is on the field and the rain is coming down and I have a lousy cold and I should be in bed?”
“Sir, the New York Mets assure you they'll almost never not do that in bad weather.”
“Great, I'll take two.”
“Here you go. Enjoy your long pointless evening [1] at Shea Stadium.”