**********
In sheer disbelief, I am jumping up and down, high five-ing Casey as it sinks in.
I am getting on the plane to Texas.
Even though this is the second time around traveling with the team for playoffs, I still had overwhelming fear and a parade of self destructive thoughts completely take over my brain.
I am sure this outfit makes me look fat. No, actually I look frumpy. My hair is terrible. In fact, I think I have it in a pony tail. I look like I'm going to the gym, not going on a plane will millionaire baseball wives. I should've taken a MAC make up lesson. Ugh, why oh why, did I not take the time to buy some stilettos for the airport? Stilettos? Who am I kidding? I would trip for sure. It isn't even possible for me to wear stilettos. I was built for Lululemon, not Jimmy Choo. The wives have plane outfits. You must be kidding me. They seriously are changing into new outfits. I am so out of my freaking element. Dear God, I hope there is a mall nearby.
This is all nicely reinforced, as you know, by Jose Bautista nicely pointing out at the airport that I had a water bottle in my backpack, like I'm some novice traveler who didn't know any better.
WAIT
Did you hear that?
I had a back pack.
A Mountain Warehouse purple backpack with my computer in it for work.
No heels.
No black dress for the plane.
No Gucci bag.
A purple Mountain Warehouse backpack.
Yep. That's me.
Comfortably. Lacking. Elegance.
Even when it was all over, and we are bussed with a police escort service, literally from the park to the plane, I still have this backpack I'm carrying. We get to walk up the steps all presidential-like. You know those Michelle Obama or Kate Middleton moments, where their hair is blowing in the wind, and they turn to wave at the crowd with their Chanel purse over the other arm? Oh yeah, that is so what you want to do in this moment. I want to princess wave at the crowd, with my purple backpack over my shoulder, giggling hysterically at how insane this is.
Fortunately there is red wine on the plane.
And I'm definitely going to need some.
***************
The next day, I am walking up to one of the most incredible fitness centers I have ever been in in my life at the Four Seasons in Fort Worth, Texas. And low and behold, there are Magic Eye pictures on this wall before you enter. So I stop, thinking I'm going to take another run at trying to figure these things out, and stare for a while at this wall. And like most things in life, if you practice often enough or try often enough, one day you see something differently and it just clicks.
No waaaaay!
It is a baseball player!
And he's about to pitch.
Knee up, arm in the air, ball in hand.
HA HA!!
Well, HOW about that??!
(I am extremely proud of myself at this moment.)
How on earth have I never seen this before??!!!
Now I totally want to go and buy one of these books and put back on my coffee table again and be super impressive at parties.
"Really, you can't see the Christmas tree with its lights on in the middle of this page? Wow! - it is SOO clear to me. Have another look."
********************
So, here's the thing.
I spent hours each day fussing over what I was going to wear to the game. I dried my hair (this is a rarity in itself), got the beach waves curled (ok, so I tried), put make up on (rarity #2) and ironed my shirt (unheard of). I had 3 different pairs of shoes on, two different purses and God knows how many fashion panic attacks.
And then I pulled myself together and had to give my head a shake.
Sarah Louise, it should not matter what everyone else is wearing or what the odds are you will hit a TV camera along the way.
What did I actually feel like MYSELF in and could actually enjoy a baseball game in?
A pair of ripped jeans and a long sleeve shirt and flip flops.
Yep, that's who I am. Ripped jeans and purple backpack.
Trust me, I so want to be wearing Christian Dior, driving my black Mercedes convertible with blonde beach waves blowing in the wind wearing Manolo Blahnik shoes, but it sadly is not in my cards.
I'm not even going to pretend that I can compete with the likes of any of these people.
I'm just going to be me.
So, jeans it is.
And you know what?
As I'm watching from the stands as the game ends and the score is final, all the wives, families and fans around me are jumping up and down, cheering and high five-ing, in amazement that we are 2-0. There are guys wrapped in Canada flags rushing down to the field level to try and get an autograph and an unbelievable number of Blue Jays fans that somehow made it to Texas in a 24 hour window to see the beginning of this series. The media rushes out with the cameras and it is absolutely electric to be in that park and feel the energy of how well this team travels.
I stand there smiling, taking it all in.
All of a sudden, amidst the noise, you see the picture-within-the-picture.
Underneath the fancy bags and boots, we are all just one group of people hoping this baseball team is going to win another game and it really doesn't matter what outfit you are in.
*************
I was never able to see the 3D objects because I never tried to look into the picture. I just kept staring at it, blankly, without understanding that I needed to look at the picture differently to see the object inside.
If only we could all look past all the noise and see that we aren't so different after all.
Because tonight, regardless of high heels or flip flops, we still share common ground.
We are an entire country, united by a single ball team, with the hopes and dreams of winning this game and moving on.
#ourmoment
