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the unanswered hand hung in the air for seemingly an eternity before it was retracted.
luckily, i was warned before we arrived at the stadium that they were high fivers. as a fan, i don't do high fives. high fives are reserved for players, drunks, and people much cooler than i. the pregame warning put me in a bad mood, but allowed me to be prepared.
as soon as the first home run ball cleared the fence, i knew the high five invitation was coming. the high fivers were to my left. i quickly turned to the right looking to home plate as if that was where the action was. in my peripheral vision i saw the invitation, a lonely hand waiting to be slapped. i pretended not to see. it went unanswered.
i assumed my actions had set a precedence and that the next 8 innings would be free of high fives. never under estimate the diligence of a high fiver.
the second home run caught me by surprise. i glanced to my left. eye contact was made with one of the high fivers. i knew i would be unable to avoid the rising hand. my feeble attempt at a high five was more of a clumsy caress than a slap of skin. i probably creeped the high fiver out. the high five was a commitment and bonding, you can't not high five after you initiation to the high fivers society. the snow ball was rolling, i feared high fives would soon replace all types of verbal communication.
there was only one thing to do, move. i decided to "get a beer", which i did in right field. in a seat 428 feet from the high fivers, i sat alone, drinking beer, watching the game and occasionally looking to see the group of high fivers celebrating a 89 mph fast ball passing over the plate between a motionless batter's knees and shoulders.