We went to tennis today.  It was a beautiful day, and sorry to say this because so many readers are in the east, it was just a little too warm.  Fortunately, there were a few clouds that kept the sun from getting to intense.  We bought seats in the large stadium, but spent very little time in those seats.  Had a lot more fun in stadium 3.  Better view too!  Had lunch at one of the new restaurants in the tennis garden, not Nobu, but the one next to it.

We had a little trouble finding the correct parking.  We drove in, paid our parking fee, and asked everyone who I interacted with if this was the way for handicapped parking, and they said yes, just follow along, and someone will direct you.  The first person also said that there was parking on pavement for wheelchairs.  We waited in a line (a bit like LA traffic) for what seemed like an eternity.  The line wound around the lot, and attendants were directing people to their spaces.  At a certain point, we were directed to leave the line to go to the handicapped spaces.  We followed and had to dodge all the folks who were walking from their parked cars to the entrance.  When we finally got to the parking area, it was on the lawn.  I told the attendant that it was going to be impossible to push the wheelchair in the grass.  “Oh, you have a wheelchair?”  says he.  “You need to leave the lot . . .” and then he gave me a bunch of directions to get to Gate 1 and I was supposed to ask for Chuck.  After following his directions and getting lost, we found Gate 1, and there was someone, who I think didn’t have a wheelchair, trying to get Chuck to give them a space, because it is closer to the entrance.  Fortunately for us, he didn’t give in, because there was just one space left.

Inside the tennis garden, it was crowded and, while there were signs for handicapped entrances, elevators, etc, it was very confusing.  I also found it odd that most tennis enthusiast fall into two categories, and some belonged in both.  Either the 1% or friends of the unibomber.  I haven’t seen so many dingy shorts and sandals with black socks!  There were also a lot of kids, and I couldn’t help but think, “don’t they have school??”  Maybe its Spring Break.  The other issue had to do with the crowds.  I had forgotten what it was like to push the wheelchair with so many people around.  These folks had the fatal flaw of only seeing what was in their sphere.  When we took the elevator up to the restaurant, there were actually two grown middle aged people who stepped over David’s feet to get off before us as I was pushing him off.

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Oh, and we say a player from Argentina play, so that is what the title is about.