“Ice cold pop! ice cold water!”
“Do you want something to drink?” I turned to my girlfriend, Karianne.
Two outs later we turned our backs on the field and climbed the stairs to the main concourse of Comerica Park. I always do my best to wait until after the Tigers have hit to make my way up toward the food even though I know I will still miss something. The concourse has a way of trapping you in its never-ending circle of intriguing smells and menus.
For Karianne, it’s always an easy choice. We headed straight for Little Caesars to put more money in Mike Ilitch’s pocket (Although, after the Prince Fielder signing I’m a little more willing to throw Mr. Illitch some of my dollars). I still can’t figure out how a Little Caesars pizza costs $5.30 on the street and a single slice costs $5.50 inside the ballpark. To be fair, I guess they do sell deep-dish slices inside Comerica so I should be comparing the $5.50 slice to something more like a $6.50 pizza. Either way you spin it, it’s thievery. Karianne loves her pizza though. The thick square piece of melted cheese and marinara sauce did attract my attention for a brief moment, but I knew I could steal some bites of hers and that would suffice.
Personal pizza box in hand, we continued on to find something to satisfy my hunger. As we walked along the concrete path, cutting into any empty space we could in an attempt to find the fastest lane, the sweet smell of roasted almonds drifted into my nostrils. My speed slowed as we passed the white-topped booth distributing the nuts. Every time I’m here I go through an internal battle on whether or not to get a bag of the delectable nuts. Their smell is infatuating (someone should make a candle that smells like roasted almonds), but I know they won’t fully satisfy my growling stomach, so I carried on just thankful for the free smells.
Stopped in a line a few hundred feet down, I could see the game had started up again. No runners on base, my attention turned to the menu next to the monitor. We got in line for pop, but I always have to look just in case something catches my eye. Classic ballpark food: hot dogs, nachos, pretzels, ice cream, fries and pop. “Oooh those look good,” Karianne pointed at a guy walking away from the register carrying a cup of fries. She may have been pretending like we were only in line for pop, but I know the two of us and I figured we would be walking away from the register with fries. Hot Dogs on the menu caught my eye like they always do. A hot dog is the best ballpark food, hands down. Why I decided to pass on a hot dog, I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to be adventurous, but a hot dog aways satisfies my hunger while taking in a ball game. The line shrunk in front of us until we finally reached the front. I was happy I passed on the almonds when the woman at the cash register told me my total, “$8.00.” Robbery.
We snacked on the fries as we darted in and out of packs of people on the concourse. I had my head on a swivel scanning for possible food options. A small cart selling a special nacho supreme fascinated me. A person sitting close to us had been enjoying an order in the first inning and they did look delicious. Tortilla chips holding the weight of melted cheese, jalapenos, lettuce, ground beef, black olives, onions and salsa. To me though, that sounds more like a sit down meal. My ballpark tastes are much simpler than that. Too messy for my plastic green seat, we continued on.
Through its glass doors I could see that Leo’s Coney Island was too packed to go in and I still can’t figure out why. Who would sit down at a Coney Island at a baseball game? Like most of the other fans in Comerica, I grew up in a Detroit suburb. I spent many Friday nights in high school eating a chicken finger pita at my local Leo’s, but during a ball game? It’s absurd. I’m down with stepping up to the concourse to snag some food if it means missing an inning, more than an inning is absurd though, so sitting down at a restaurant inside a ballpark you paid $50 to get into just seems stupid to me. Sell your ticket, stay home and go to Leo’s with the money you just made.
As we walked, we looked at thick grilled bratwurst and chicken tenders, but nothing seemed right to me. This was one of those times where I was looking for just the right food item. Everything looked good, but none of it seemed right. I was on a hunt for the perfect item to satisfy my craving, only I didn’t know what it would be. Karianne was beginning to get annoyed with me, “Can you please just pick something!?”
I peeked down an aisle where I could get a glimpse of the massive scoreboard towering in left-field. The Tigers were just coming up to bat and had not given up any runs in their defensive half. Although my food hunt was taking my attention, the game is always what’s most important to me and I was beginning to get annoyed with myself for missing so many at bats. We slipped into the Big Cat food court. To enter we had to pass by yet another white topped booth exuding the intoxicating smell of roasted almonds. Karianne saw me looking, “Just get some. I’ll pay for it.”
“No no,” I shook my head and continued moving. The circular area off the main concourse had restaurants around the entire perimeter and was highlighted by the large merry-go-round in the center with children riding on Tigers in various poses. We strolled around the perimeter, gazing upon the menu options. Elephant ears, cotton candy, frozen lemonade, chicken tenders. I stopped at one counter, staring at the white board menu. Chicago style hot dogs. The pickle spear, sweet relish, peppers and mustard looked divine smothering the hot dog snuggled inside the poppy seed bun.
As I looked at the Chicago style hot dog,I realized what I really wanted had been right in front of me the whole time. I walked away and got at the end of the Tigers’ Grill line. Karianne rolled her eyes, “Weren’t we already here?” It was true, I had passed around thirty Tigers’ Grills and already had my pockets robbed by one for fries and pop. “Two hot dogs please,” I said when I made it to the front a short time later.
I grabbed my dogs and made my way toward another much shorter line for condiments. Just relish on one, mustard and relish on the other. It took me 20 minutes to finally settle on something I knew I had wanted the entire time. It’s tough to turn down something you love in favor of something new and I couldn’t deny myself the simple delicacies. I was satisfied with the hot dogs and did not regret my decision at all. 99% of the time I go to Comerica, I eat a hot dog. For some reason though, I get these urges that I should try something new. It’s not just at the ballpark either. When I go to a restaurant where I get the same thing almost every time I go, I’m always tempted to try a different item on the menu. Like that day at Comerica, I usually fail. I think it’s partially because I’m afraid to get something and be disappointed in it. It’s also because I just can’t turn down something I really like in favor of something else. Why would I want nachos when I have a love affair with ballpark hot dogs? I’m not the only one with a love affair for a food item either.
Karianne piped up, “Can we please go sit down now? I’m dying to eat this pizza.”
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