I decided to take advantage of the fact that the DC Open (which has a longer name) is well, in DC. Where I am. And so tickets were procured and the weather was on Saturday predictably steamy. I briefly wondered if the display in the corner of the court was the current temperature, but no, that was the serve speed. (They were close though.)
There are many things that are wild about sports events these days, the clear bags, versus the tiny bags. Water bottles if sealed, or if reusable empty. Metal detectors.
And then you are released into the wilds and there are courts here, there and there. The sounds of people and tennis balls bouncing and rackets.
There were apparently puppies in the players area, which was probably because puppies need AC but also why were the puppies hidden? Yes, yes, AC.
It was kids day on day 1, which meant many parents were in the stands narrating tennis facts for their kids like paid commentators.
My tickets, through sheer luck, get some shade in the morning, which has been a delightful discovery. Shade is not often easy to come by in a tennis stadium.
I have been slathering myself in sunscreen and hope to remember the bug spray.
It's also a little amusing going to a local event, because all us locals are like, oh, we have to go that way for the entrance, we can't just go here? I also saw signs for where to await your rideshare, which quite honestly is likely more common these days.
As local peeps know, we had a wicked thunder storm Saturday night, and yet, Sunday morning everything was ready to go. So kudos to the folks who must have worked hard to make that happen. Tennis stadiums are not always on the edge of a giant park (though it does make wandering about on a hot day a little nicer). So I'm sure there's a lot to be done after storms.
I am going to be a tennis fan for a few more days.
And then return to my life as an occasional watcher on TV of the tennis. But there is something really amazing about seeing and hearing it all in person. And realizing that if I am hot sitting here, whew.
