so, i was working earlier tonight, downtown, in my restaurant. it was completely dead, as san francisco -- with pompous asshole in tow (b.b.) -- was playing at petco. ball game days are never good for us; tonight, however, was an all-time low. apparently, a lot of people felt that they needed to go to petco to witness a travesty of baseball "history."

but i digress.

i'm a server. my section was completely empty, so, naturally, i gravitated towards the television, which was at the front of the restaurant. the game had just started, so i grabbed my water and camped out near the front, hoping -- nay, praying -- that bonds would be thwarted.

a few guys that were sitting at the bar nearby eventually noticed how transfixed i was by the game. after a few minutes, one of them leaned over the bar and said,

"you like baseball?"
"kind of," i replied, hoping the ambiguity of my answer would stall further conversation. nope.
"this is a big game, you know," the guy said.
"really." i'd thought the tone of my voice was blatantly sarcastic. the guy either didn't notice or didn't care, because then he felt the need to educate me about WHY this was such a big game.
"there's this guy," he said. "on san francisco. his name is barry bonds, and he's about to tie --"
"hank aaron's record."
he stared at me. "you know about hank aaron?"
"yeah."
"why didn't you say so?"
"you never asked."
he shifted on his barstool uncomfortably. "well, i mean, looking at you, i wouldn't have guessed..."
"that i knew how much rode on this game, with barry bonds starting and being only one shy of tying hank aaron's record...?"
"well, yeah," he muttered.
"and why is that?"
"girls don't know anything about baseball. usually," he added quickly, undoubtedly because of the look on my face.

granted, it was not the first time i've ever been doubted as a fan of baseball, nor, i'm sure, will it be the last. still, for some reason tonight -- and i'm sure it had a lot to do with my being somewhat edgy, seeing as the pads weren't out of the woods yet re: bonds -- random guy's comments kind of got to me. why can't girls be as rabid baseball fans as guys...? furthermore, what precludes us from being taken seriously...?

maybe if i'd been forty-five, heavy-set, with cat hair all over my nondescript t-shirt and thick, round granny-style glasses, i would have been taken (more?) seriously. or, better yet, if i'd been twelve, so that random guy hadn't had the chance to surreptitiously gauge the size of my chest before asking me if i "liked baseball." might as well have asked me if i liked the beach, or threesomes. jesus.