FLYING ATLANTA to San Francisco to catch the Braves vs. the Giants on the waterfront tonight, I anticipate a reaction as I exit the first-class lavatory wearing a wetsuit. My unsavory, knife-fight-in-a-phone-booth noises couldn't have gone unnoticed.

Wrong. Not a glance from the flight crew.

Maybe it's because I layered baggy clothing over rubber and look only vaguely reptilian. More likely, though, it's because our flight is three hours late, due to a "major medical emergency" involving drip bags, oxygen, and a gurney for the unfortunate man sitting behind me.

So it goes. My plan was to be floating in McCovey Cove, over the right-field wall of AT&T Park, by first pitch in case San Francisco's Barry Bonds splashes home run number 754—and possibly 755 and 756—into the Bay. Unfortunately, the game is already under way by the time I find a driver willing to trust a man in a wetsuit. But I'm not worried. Tourists use itineraries to see and do what they want. Travelers use itineraries to wipe up the mess when the kimchee hits the fan.

Sometimes, momentum takes an ugly turn, especially when a trip—this trip, for instance—has been fine-tuned and all stars seem aligned. Offered for your consideration are these Twilight Zone intersectings:

1. It's July 24, Barry Lamar Bonds's birthday. He's 43, and with 753 career home runs, he's only two shy of tying the record established on July 20, 1976, by former Braves great Hank Aaron. And, after a slump, Bonds has a hot bat: Last week, he homered twice against the Chicago Cubs.

2. The commissioner of Major League Baseball, Bud Selig, is in attendance after conspicuously avoiding earlier Giants games, perhaps because of the BALCO steroids investigation—and maybe because Hammerin' Hank is his close friend.

3. Atlanta's starting pitcher is Tim Hudson. A few years back, he couldn't find a competent catcher while visiting his Florida in-laws, so he had to settle for me, an over-the-hill amateur who still plays the game—hardball, not softball. The man was unfailingly patient while I ran down the ball and threw it back. We've been friends ever since.

4. Outside, also celebrating an anniversary, called out of the blue and asked me to participate in the homer-hunting lunacy of McCovey Cove, unaware that it was Bonds's birthday; that Hudson was pitching; that I'd caught Hudson; that the guy behind me would stroke out (but live) and my plane would be three hours late; and that I am sufficiently greedy to change, Clark Kent style, in a plane lavatory just on the outside chance I can swim my way to riches by chasing yet another Tim Hudson fastball.
What are the odds?