And now, with three minutes to the opening pitch, a spanner in the works. A family has arrived, and the patriarch is demanding - in broken English - to see my ticket. Fine. I'll show you buddy.
See, this is me, right here, Block 20, Row 28, Seat 1. Take that....
Wait? What's that? This ticket is for the 1st base side? And I am on the 3rd base side? And the seating system is essentially a mirror?
Oh... had I known the Japanese translation of your more common English profanities I would have been using them freely about now.
How did four different stewards not pick up on this when looking at my ticket? I had no idea. I can't read kanji, but they could. Were they all too polite to say I was in the wrong place? Who knows.
Mostly I'm annoyed because I haven't had my food or beer and now I have to rush over where I need to be. Also I'm annoyed because this mob showed up with little time to spare, and now I have to stress.
I've got two minutes to get around to the other side of the stadium and find the EXACT SAME seat on the first base side.
But I got there. Didn't even spill a drop. Go me.
The new view...and I managed to capture the first pitch!
Not much chance of a foul ball here sadly.