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Flat tire
Originally uploaded by dancindeac. Just got home from what will probably be my last game at Camden. Couldn't have asked for a better night - the weather was perfect, and even though the Sox lost, it was an exciting game and an entirely un-Orioles like crowd tonight: they were actually gasp cheering...vocally... for their own team! And not just during the 5th inning Old Bay Crab Shuffle! (Which I guessed right for the first time... EVER!) The last inning was awesome, most of the fans had left with the O's in the lead 4-1 but Ortiz got up and homered to left with Loretta on base to pull it up to 4-3. So then all the Sox fans have awoken from their 6th inning beer buzz nap and are on their feets going nuts. Sadly, both Ramirez and Lowell struck out looking (booooo) and Harris was called out stealing second. I'm not entirely convinced was that he was out - but I was in the 6th highest row in Camden and I'm not known for my stellar eyesight, so who knows. There was much cheering, much O-R-I-O-L-E-S and much of me resisting the urge to pour a beer on my gloating companion's head. (In the end, I resisted based solely on the value of baseball stadium beer - $9 beer should never not be used for vindicitive purposes.) I absolutely love Camden - I don't think there is a prettier stadium in the whole league. Sentimentally, nothing tugs at my heart strings like the big CITGO sign and the green monster, but aesthetically, Camden cannot be beat. I double dog dare you to disagree with me - in fact I challenge anyone who does to put me on a plane right now and take me to a game at their favorite stadium so I can objectively and expertly judge.
And then the not so awesome part of the night: I'm driving home about 11:30 and my tire goes flat. While I'm in the left lane. In the midst of I-95 which for all intents and purposes abides by the same driving rules of Talladega. Once I got over, I had to drive for a good bit until I can get far enough up where there's enough shoulder that I can get out of the car without tempting death (why oh why is there still RIDICULOUS traffic at midnight on I-95?) Call triple A, wait for 2 hours while the tow truck guy keeps calling and saying he's on his way but he forgot he needed the other truck, he's on his way but am I on 95 North or 95 South, he's on his way but he needs to stop first and get his mountain dew and bbq fritos - you get the point. At Matt's insistence, I even called the highway patrol to "report" myself, hoping one would come and sit with their flashers on to protect me from boogiemen in the woods to my right and crazy motorists on my left but one never showed. Apparently living in the city with the highest crime rate means protecting young females traveling alone in who are scared shiteless on the side of the road is not a priority. Tow truck man did finally get there about 2 am, meanwhile I've peed my pants four times while semi's on a death mission play chicken in my rearview mirror and make a "swoosh" noise as they go by - which I'm still not entirely convinced wasn't the sound of my heart leaping up into my chest.... anyways to make a story I'm overdramatizing shorter: flat tire, I-95, 2 hours, midnight, terrifying, fixed, home. Whew. What a way to say good bye to B'more. At least I won the crab shuffle.