Do over

Last summer, when we went to see the Yakult Swallows play the Hiroshima Carp at nearby Jingu Stadium, I messed up. I had bought tickets from the Lawson ticket machine without knowing who sits where and ended up in the middle of the Carp's cheering side. That was fine, I don't have any strong Japanese baseball allegiances. Fish, birds, whatever. Maybe you know something about how Japanese baseball fans coordinate and organize. They make honeybees look sloppy. Before the seventh inning last year, everyone around us started blowing up long balloons. Some guys behind us handed us some. I blew mine up and waved it in the air like everyone else. Suddenly, at some secret, unanimous signal, like a flock of flamingos rising into the air, everyone released their balloons and they zoomed up into the sky to land in branches and in the back fence. (Happy Earth Day!) Except mine. Because, of course, I had tied the end in a knot. I looked at Jim and Ayda, who were both empty-handed and laughing. I asked them, clutching my lone balloon, how they had known not to tie them. "Dunno. Just figured. You tied it?! Why'd you tie it?!"
I turned around to face the guys who had given us the balloons. They spluttered their beer. "What did you do? You can't tie it! Why'd you tie it?!"
I undid the knot and my balloon fizzled up and away.
This year, by chance, we saw the same teams play. We watched from a comfortable distance as the Carp-ers released their stupid balloons. Instead, we were surrounded by people waving clear plastic green umbrellas with plastic birds perched on top.
Luckily, nobody offered us any.