My mom wasn’t really here to visit ME this past week. She was here to watch my alma mater (can one say that about a high school? Or just a college?) play in the state basketball tournament. We ventured such fun places as Williams Arena and the Target Center.
Yesterday’s game was at the Target Center. I don’t believe I’ve ever been there, so I was excited to accompany her. Plus I love me some basketball! Anyway, I checked out their website to see what is considered contraband and noticed that they have a “Parents’ Room.” Great, I thought, now I won’t have to nurse Anja in the car! Since it was merely a high school tournament and not a big concert or a Timberwolves’ game, I decided to call ahead to ensure that the room would be available. Unfortunately, they told me, it would not be open. But, the lady continued, if I would stop by Guest Services, they would direct me to the LifeTech Center, and I could nurse her there.
Satisfied, I hung up the phone and packed up my mom (she doesn’t require much packing) and Anja (she requires quite a bit of packing). We arrived downtown with little hassle, parked in a ramp and made our way through the skyways (God love ’em) to the Target Center. Mom got us some tickets, we found seats and got settled in, and I took Anja with me up to Guest Services.
“Go down the hall to Section 116, and it will be on your left,” said the cheerful GS lady.
Section 116 was on exactly the opposite end of the stadium, close to where I had come from. I trekked over there and could find nothing labeled “LifeTech Center,” but I did see a First Aid station with two guys eating at a table. I asked one of them if they could point me in the right direction. The guy closest to me gave a quick glance to the other guy and said, “Oh, yeah, um…just let me grab a key. It’s actually right here.” He walked out of the First Aid room and took a couple of steps to the left, unlocked a door, and led me inside. Apparently LifeTech Center is another name for a dirty. handicapped. men’s. bathroom.
I must have been looking around in a bit of shock, because he mumbled, “Uh, let me get you a chair.” THANKS, kind sir! Because where was I supposed to sit? On the filthy toilet? He returned shortly with a chair. I found a semi-clean spot to set the diaper bag: on top of the paper towel dispenser. Anja, in her curious way, was trying to reach out and touch everything, which frightened me, the fairly germ-conscious mother.
I nursed as quickly as possible and managed to get out of there having only touched the door lock. Hopefully it’s the only time in my life that I’ll have to nurse a baby in a room with a urinal.