The Red Sox, Drunks on the T, and Hootie (not neccsarily in that order)
My day was vaguely planned at 10:25 a.m. today.
I was going to watch ESPN College Football Gameday until like 11:30. I was going to take a shower. Take jaunt over to Plymouth to the Verizon store and see if I can get a free upgrade phone, because mine has been, to put it nicely, craptastic.
Then I'd come home and watch UMass football which would lead into the Red Sox baseball and then channel surf or play Madden '08 the rest of the night. Typical Nick Saturday.
Maybe I'd even search for a car too, who knows.
At 10:30 I got a call from a friend of the family who has season tickets offering me Sox/Yanks tix for today.
40 dollars later and 40 minutes later me and my brother hopped in the mighty, mighty minivan and went to the Fens.
We had a plan:
1) Go to Boston Beer Works
2) Drink Heavily
3) Go to Fenway
4) Buy a sausage with onion and peppers
5) Boo ARod
You know typical Sox fans agenda.
However, upon arriving we saw that the Works had a line around the block so we waited in line at Yawkey way and then went to Who's on First, a bar that's been across from Gate D for as long as I can remember.
So we get some beers and start watching meaningless college football games. And one beer leads to two, to three, to four. In about an hour, I haven't been drunk before three in a while, it was nice to pretend I was in college again.
We go into Fenway, meet up with some friends who were also at the game and got situated in our seats, we were just about to discuss about buying another beer before we got blocked in and the National Anthem started. Sung by nonother that Darius Rucker of Hootie and the Blowfish, you might better know him as Hootie.
And I remembered that scene from Jerry Maguire, when the kid asked Cuba Gooding Jr. (Ron Tidwell) for an autograph, the young lad was disappointed that he wasn't Hootie. Do people ever go up to him and ask him for Ron Tidwell's autograph?
And why the hell is Hootie singing the anthem? I mean it's cool, I guess. It would be cooler if he and the Blowfish didn't break up. It would be even cooler if this was 1995.
But whatever, it's Hootie.
And then they have a small army of people throwing out a first pitch. Some lady who donated a ton of blood to the Red Cross, which I suspect isn't healthy. Some kid who did something....i'm not sure if he donated his bike route money to charity or had sex with his math teacher, but the final one was Massachusetts native and comedian/actor Dane Cook.
So before he threw out a first pitch we had to watch a preview for the awful looking "Good Luck Chuck" starring the gorgeous Jessica Alba.
So we pretend to laugh to make him feel good and he pitches the ball. Of course it's more like a shotput because it goes way high and way right.
And the game starts....and after Jeter homers to dead center (booooooo) the kid next to me and I notice that they are selling clam chowder in the stands.
So in Fenway you can't buy overpriced beer, but you can buy overpriced clam chowder.
So we thought about other things to sell with vendors: (insert the vendor shout of "HERE" after each food item)
1) Foi Gras
2) Champagne
3) French Onion Soup
4) Minestrone
5) Caviar
We thought we were clever.
A guy in front of us thought he was clever and he verbally assault Yankee Right fielder Bobby Abreau. At first, I admit it was funny, but inning after inning of the guy calling Abreau gay was just tedious.
Later on I pointed out that there was a vendor selling pizza. He thought I was kidding and then, "I thought you were shitting me...but they are actually selling pizza."
We came up with these other Italian dishes: (insert the vendor shout of "HERE" after each food item)
1) Linguini with Clame Sauce
2) Chicken Parm
3) Stuffed Shells
So the Sox win convincingly and a few of us go to Coppefields for a celebratory brew.
As me and my brother are leaving we watch this girl just sucking on this guys neck. And not in a cute, "aaaaw they're in love" kinda way. In a whorish, "we're making out in my parents basement" making out.
As we walk down to the Twe take the staircase that no one else is using. I wish we hadn't taken the road less traveled because we run into a guy peeing on the steps. Whipping out his junk, right in the middle of the steps and pissing. On the ride home, I was lucky enough to sit next to the guy, but was too tired to give up my seat to get away from Mr. No Bladder control.
But it's cool I saw the sox win...and Ron Tidwell...I mean Hootie.