Trip to Liverpool to watch them at home to Sunderland. Dad and I had time to go on their equivalent of the London eye, but managed to upset the operator.
When I pressed the button to get the commentary, Dad pressed a button by him to "speak to the operator", thinking it would get the commentary. After an exchange with a grumpy operator, we did not get our commentary.
There seemed to be a lot of particularly grumpy people in the city that day; just so many people who didn't seem to suffer fools gladly, and I decided to forget about engaging the driver about football when I spotted he was an Everton fan; I wasn't sure how things would have gone. We did get chatting to another father and son about whether Manchester City would win the league (two years later, they did).
Liverpool won; it was a well-deserved victory.
Coming back to the hotel, the lift doors opened on our floor, revealing a young man decked out in Liverpool gear. Still in a good mood, I shouted out about what a great result it was.
Either he didn't speak English or I'd really misjudged his mood - he just stared at me like I was crazy.