Memory #169

For my 11th birthday, my parents took me and some friends to a baseball game. My friends began chatting with the ball boy through a fence. He was squatting below us on the field, and he was very friendly. Then, an old usher came stomping towards us, "What are you boys doing!?" he demanded. We scattered, and I ran to an empty seat for a couple of minutes before we converged back with my parents again.