Many of my friends know that I blog. They always wonder if whatever we are doing at that particular moment will end up on the blog and what my spin on it will actually be. Yesterday I went to the Angels and Yankees game with a friend and he asked if I was going to blog about it. “Maybe”, I replied. And then he said he could probably blog it for me because he knew what I was going to say. So I told him to give it his best shot. Tell my story, in my voice, the way you think I experienced it. Even though it wasn’t as easy as he thought, he did give it his best shot. And since I had already blogged it too, I’m giving you my real version. How close did he get? (I know…it’s hard to nail down my biting sarcasm).
I decided to take the train to the Angel Yankee game last night. It’s a two hour train ride, but its better than dealing with traffic, and the train arrives exactly at game time 5:00. I’m supposed to meet someone there at 5. However, he didn’t show up till 6. Obviously I am annoyed by this, I can be understanding when it comes to traffic, but an hour, come on buddy. Not to mention this isn’t the first time this person has made me wait before. I’m debating whether or not to turn around and go home and delete this person from my phone. Needless to say, he finally arrives and although a little annoyed we proceed to go into the game.
When going to a baseball game one of the many traditions is to experience stadium food. You can’t go to a baseball game and not experience the fine cuisine. Being a bud girl, I had to partake in a couple bud lights and some sliders from Ruby’s Diner. Being that it is a baseball game I also had to have a hot dog. You can’t go to a game and not have a hot dog right? It would be Un-American.
The game was very entertaining, from the action on the field to the drunk yankee fans that proceeded to high five me on his way out. Even though I wasn’t rooting for the yankees, I wasn’t wearing my Angels red and neither was the person I was with. I can see how I can be easily confused with being a yankees fan.
All and all I had a great time at the game, and the person I was with completely made up for being late and I enjoyed his company tremendously. He walked me back to the train station, saw that I got off safely and I proceeded to enjoy my train ride home.
I like going to sporting events even when I’m not a particularly big fan of the sport. Like Baseball for instance…I never watch a game on T.V. during the regular season. I’m going to need a little more action and a little more signifcance if I’m going to shell out 3 hours of my life like that. But I will go to a baseball game, and I’ll even be excited to go if it’s the playoffs. So when my friend called me up to ask me if I’d like to go to the Angel game at 5pm, when it was already 2pm and I was sitting in San Diego, I did my best to make it happen.
Not only did I make it, I made it on time. What is the implication here? The fact that he did not. If I hadn’t already traveled 2 hours by train, I would not have still been sitting there almost an hour later when he finally showed up!! I don’t appreciate waiting on people, especially when the excuse is bad traffic. This ain’t Kansas buddy, this is the 5 Freeway in Southern California at 5 pm on a workday en route to a major sporting event. You may not live here, but our traffic has a reputation, so there can be no cop out. So I did what I do best, and failed miserably at hiding my irritation.
We managed to make it into the game before either team had scored (big shocker there), so my experience wasn’t totally ruined. I then proceeded to eat 3 days worth of calories in the next 3 hours. If you can’t watch a baseball game eating and drinking the whole time, I really don’t even see the point.
The Angels ended up losing and I pretended to care but it was all for naught as I was accidentally dressed in Yankee colors and I got more hi fives than sad looks anyway. In fact, the buddies I met on the train ride home invited me to join them in their celebration. Who am I to ruin a good time? So yes, I ended up enjoying myself. And next time, he probably knows if he is going to be late to just turn around and go home.Powered by Sidelines