So I drove 45 minutes south to watch that fucking game last night. Yes, I realize there are televisions closer, but none of you bastards offered to cook me dinner and watch the game with me. [Well, except for the bastard who did. Thanks. :)] And I got home at 2am and I've had 3 hours of sleep and I AM NOT HAPPY. Well, I'm not happy to be at
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I echo your frustrations. I walked about 3/4 of a mile to an Irish pub to watch a few innings, but left at the bottom of the fourth. No one I knew was about, and I'm not too keen on sitting in a bar alone.
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And hey there Italo-boyo! They stayed at the Hotel duPont and I heard something on the radio this ayem that reported they claimed it was the best hotel they ever stayed in!)
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