Sitting in the outfield bleachers at a major league baseball game. Frank Robinson of the Cleveland Indians, wearing those garish all-red uniforms of the mid-1970s, hits the ball (left-handed) very far, over the fence for a home run. But the bat also flies out of his hands as he swings and the bat flies over the outfield fence and bounces on the blacktop beyond the fence but in front of the concession stands and scoreboard. The bat bounds through an open door at the side of the concession stands and just about hits a guy who is putting icing on cinnamon rolls.
The top of the barrel of the bat gets stuck vertically into a whole tray of icing. I run in to get the bat. I make sure nobody is hurt and I want to return it to the game. I pick it up and hold it up. The whole tray of icing sticks to the bat, so I hold the bat over my head and the tray begins to slip off and fall to the ground.
One of the icing cups remains, as a plastic ring attached to it, where you pull to open the cup, is wrapped around the bat barrel. So the final icing cup hangs there on the bat.
I go to an usher by the fence and ask him who I need to talk to in order to return the bat. He seems agitated that I asked him. But he motions me to an old security guy in a golf cart. He is sitting just inside a gate in the fence with a few others. I ask him if they need the bat back and he says no, keep it. Cool.
