Behind the Big Screen?

by Lee McCoy

You can bet it’s not the Wizard of Oz—after all, we don’t live in Kansas.

Only in Cincinnati do you have a wizard who has flunked wizard school. No one likes a person who is in control of what you watch. But let me explain why I am so hot at whoever is the controller of The Big Screen on Fountain Square.

I am watching the Dallas/Oklahoma game, game two, Dallas leading by 20 points the whole game. It was a run away until the fourth quarter, nine minutes left in the game, Oklahoma down by 20 points, and all of a sudden Oklahoma started to play like it was the beginning of the game.

Now I am sitting on the edge of my seat. Some of my buddies hitting me on the back, my arms telling me here they come, and sure enough, they were coming back.

Now here’s what got me hot: four minutes left in the game, Dallas’ lead had sunk from 20 to seven. I turned my head to say something to my friend, look back up at the screen and Lord forgive me for the things that spewed out of my mouth.

Guess what happened? They switched the game to Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t believe this. My friends told me to calm down (they do this all the time). I was too hot to listen. Off to find the Wizard—and I am not talking about the Wizard of Oz.

I found two of the ambassadors who clean up Cincinnati and they told me to go down to the garage and talk to the people down there. Well I found two guys behind this grass cage. When I tried to find out who controlled the Screen, it might as well have been a joke to them. But I was not laughing.

Then, like a slap in the face, I came back to reality. Only in Cincinnati can something like this happen. Even if Dorothy were here with me, clicking her heels three times, it wouldn’t do any good.

Okay, let’s move to May 29th, the Cincinnati Reds playing Atlanta. It’s a good pitching game, Atlanta up two to one in the seventh inning, and you won’t believe this. Déjà vu—this time we go to poker on the Screen.

Now let me give you some background. People are drinking, eating Taste of Cincinnati, glaring at the game, some watching while drinking a beer. After that switch, I just started watching the people going to do something else.

Only in Cincinnati do they tell you to come on down to downtown for the Wizard who flunked counting school changing channels like the lollypop kids. It costs an arm and a leg to park, and the biggest joke in the Land of Oz that they call Fountain Square: Why is the bathroom locked when you have something?

People moving around, some drinking beer, coming out of windows, watching or just looking around the Square, but if they have to use the bathroom, “Sorry, Charlie.” If there is no event, the bathroom is closed by 9pm.

Now I see why people relieve themselves in different doorways. I mean it does look better in somebody’s corner than on oneself. What would you do? And it’s not just the poor or the homeless. I see people with suits on, females lifting up their dress.

But then again, doesn’t 3CDC run Fountain Square?

Only in Cincinnati does the Wicked Witch live forever.

Upon returning to Fountain Square, however, it would appear that the good witch Glenda did a nice turn for the folks of Cincinnati and landed a few porta-potties there; shame they didn’t squish the Wizard of the Big Screen.

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