A Little Less Heaven

The baseball park, Sox practicing.

After work yesterday, my boyfriend and I headed to Baltimore, Maryland because the Red Sox were playing the Orioles. With my team in first place for the AL East and a pretty good away record, I figured we had a pretty good chance of winning.

Furthermore, knowing secondhand that Camden Yards was a nice park and the fans were even better, I expected quite a different night than what I got.

On the ride there, we were predictably stuck in traffic for quite some time. We got there in good time, though, arriving around 5:30. When we walked to the park from the parking lot, we bought our tickets at the box office -- something you could never do at Fenway Park. Even more impressive was the price. As it was a student night, I was able to present my student ID and get (up to six) tickets for $6 each. Amazing deal, given that the cheapest tickets I could have gotten at Fenway would have been at least ten times that and I would have had to buy them ahead of time, no question.

We entered the stadium from there. At the gates, people handed out white t-shirts with a military-inspired Oriole logo on it. I accepted it and the guy who handed it to me, who saw I was wearing my Red Sox gear (shirt, hat, earrings) said, "I better see you wearing that!" He laughed, I laughed, all was good and merry.

My boyfriend and I went on to find our seats. Getting to them was kind of interesting -- we took an elevator to the third "floor." It was a pretty big elevator and crowded, but soon we were at the top and we located our section. Once there, a really nice guy led us to our seats and wiped them down with an orange felt cloth. We sat down and settled in, the sun in our eyes. But the Red Sox were practicing down below!

I snapped a few pictures before we decided we wanted something to drink, so I headed back down to get a bottle of water, which cost $4.50. That seemed like a lot (though not for a baseball park) but there was a water fountain, so we could refill it if we so desired. I headed back to our seats (and got a little turned around on the way) and we went back to enjoying the view and the weather. People began to fill in around us in the meantime.

You could definitely tell we were in the student seats. The college students behind us (who admitted, in their conversation with each other, to being underage) talked about getting wasted and how everyone they knew was a "prostitute" (not literally, it sounded more like they were using it as an insult). My RA-self was bursting at the seams to do something, but there was nothing I could do but sit there, annoyed. I'm a stickler for rules -- sue me. What was worse, though, was when one of the girls was explaining Red Sox history to the guy next to her.

"So here's what happened -- the Red Sox sold Babe Ruth for like, a lot of money. And then for like, eighty years after that, they never won a World Series. They didn't win until 2009."

Um. What? No, actually, it was 2004. Also, that's eighty-six years.

I am annoyed to no end when people talk about things they know nothing about (though I'm guilty of it too, I'm sure).

So excited to be at a baseball game!

Two young women then sat diagonally in front of us. They appeared to have no connection with the older man to their left, but one of the girls was all over him. She kissed his cheek, batted his arm, rested her head on his shoulder. That was incredibly uncomfortable. Things got worse with these two girls though -- one of them got up so many times, we figured she saw maybe half an inning. Eventually, she would sit down and we started making bets as to how quickly she would get up and leave again. Both times we overestimated. The
first time, we guessed five minutes and it took three. The second time we guessed ten and it took seven. The problem was, though, she wouldn't just get up and leave. She would stand there talking to her friend and the guy for a few minutes, blocking our view of the already ant-sized baseball players, and then leave. We missed several crucial plays because of that.

I was in a sea of orange, though I wasn't the only Red Sox fan in the park. Around the seventh inning, I could hear chanting coming from the left: Let's go, Red Sox! Clap, clap, clap clap clap! People started booing them so I joined in, even though I was at least a whole section away from the instigators. Then I got booed. I kept going, chanting all by myself louder and louder until my voice was tired and the boos less enthusiastic.

Most of the Red Sox players were booed, too. This was especially true with David Ortiz. I chalked it up to jealousy.

We got food just before the game started -- hot dogs and a bag of peanuts. Later we got a crab cake sandwich that made up the best $15 five minutes of my life. (Okay, may be an exaggeration, but it was really good!)  We shared a refreshing root beer with the sandwich because they were out of Coke.

Speaking of which, when I went to get the hot dogs, I originally asked for popcorn because it was on the menu and I didn't feel like having peanuts yet. The girl looked at me and said, "We don't have popcorn."

"Uhhh," I said, glancing up at the menu board.

"Oh, it just says that we do. But we don't. Sorry."

So at this point, I didn't trust the menu board. I decided to ask what they did have. She started to list everything that was in the display rack in front of me, as if I couldn't already see it. I wanted to face-palm right there.

The game was not as exciting as the Nationals game I attended last year. I can't blame that on the stadium, though. I can't really blame it on anyone, though I was disappointed at how the Sox were swinging at pretty much everything the pitchers threw, rather than "waiting for their pitch" as I was taught in my years of t-ball and softball.  (Yeah, yeah, t-ball and professional sports aren't the same -- hush. This rule stands.)

If you haven't already read the headlines, the Sox lost, 2-0. It was pretty abysmal. We still had the fireworks to look forward too, however, and I wanted to have my picture taken with the sign I made outside the park.

The fireworks were awesome. I love fireworks -- it's why Independence Day is my favorite holiday -- and these were just really good fireworks.  The American-themed music was kind of cheesy, but most of the songs they selected were at least good songs.

After the fireworks, we headed down the long cases of stairs, surrounded by people. I saw more Red Sox fans but they didn't acknowledge me and I didn't really acknowledge theme. It was getting late and I was tired with a long-ish walk ahead to the parking lot.

Still, we stopped by the gate for a picture with my sign. I held it up while my boyfriend took some steps back

If you know these people, I suggest you un-know them.

to get more of the background in. Just as he was pushing the button to take the picture, some Orioles fans jumped in front of and behind me to flip off the camera. My boyfriend flipped them off back and I just stood there, angry. Not only was that really rude, but there were kids around and my sign was essentially complimenting their stadium. One of the guys who had been behind me came around and looked at me.

"Grow up!" I said.

"I was just doing a peace sign!" he defended himself, holding up two fingers as if to prove it.

I shook my head and he walked away. My boyfriend later told me that the guy hadn't done a peace sign, but exactly what I suspected he had done.

Walking away from the park I was disappointed and angry. But then I remembered I had been breathing the same air as Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia, and David Ortiz, if only for a little while. And that was pretty cool.

And the fireworks were great.

And the crab cake was delicious.

And my boyfriend was great company.

And I had a good night.