My butt is lonely.  It feels lost, like it’s missing something important.

It’s not necessarily missing the comfort, heavens knows the seats in the Honda Center aren’t the first place you think of when you want to relax, but it is missing the atmosphere.

Ironically, when I’m at the games, it’s my butt that propels me from the seats when the Ducks score a goal.  It’s a love/hate relationship I can’t seem to get enough of.

I miss the annoying cup holders that threaten to spill their drinks with every movement of an arm.

I miss the people who sit around me, their theories, the predictability of their fan-ship.

I miss the way people react when they reach that top most row, out of breath and afraid to turn around without hugging the wall.

I miss my seats.

For three hours, 41 nights a year, my butt feels complete.

There are still far too many days…

GO DUCKS!!!

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