July 2003

We Are Better at Goofing Off than You Are

This is a long, rambling piece about how we made one Sunday our bitch.

A few weeks ago I was out drinking on a Thursday night in Del Ray with Chimpy, Bootylicious, and some assorted other jerks. It was then that Bootlylicious made a small suggestion that would later change the course of the following weekend. She suggested that we go to a minor league baseball game.

Upon my suggest, because I am smart, we decided to go to a Baysox game in Bowie, which is just about 10 minutes east of the Capital Beltway.

I woke up that Sunday morning fresh from having done absolutely nothing with my weekend up to that point. I looked outside and the weather was perfect for baseball. Mid- to low- 80's. Not bad. I figure it would be a good day. But when my ride out to Bowie showed up at my Mt. Pleasant apartment and it turned out to be two cars, I knew that it would be an awesome Sunday.

It didn't take long to get to the Stadium. It didn't take long to park. It didn't even take long to get tickets. Though I must say that I was outraged that General Admission tickets cost $9. Back when Grandpa and I used to go to Baysox games with great frequency, box seats were something like 8 bucks. But oh well, 9 bucks is still cheap as hell. And the General Admission seats are all absurdly good. The stadium is small an intimate, while also being new and clean.

We got our snacks, with now help from the dumb teenage girls working at the concession stands (oh, how I fear for the future of America!), and took our seats. It should be noted, though, that minor league ballparks in Maryland have sauerkraut AND onions for your hotdogs while the major league ballpark does not. This is only mitigated by the fact that at Camden Yards you can take food and beverage in, while in Bowie we were sent back to the car with our chips, and we saw one bag searcher confiscate some lady's mints from her purse. At that point, after having just shelled out that whopping 9 bucks, I was pretty much prepared to pop somebody. But then I noticed the kraut and onions for the hot dogs, and I felt much better about everything.

One of the things that's so great about minor league games, aside from the relative cheapness, the shorter lines, the more intimate setting, the lack of pounding music with every pause in the game, the lack of jerks from New York coming down for Yankees and Mets games, the closer proximity to DC, and the distinct lack of Peter Angelos, is the overall atmosphere at the games. It's much more classic. It's low key. People are there to watch a ball game, not talk on the cell phone and leave in the 7th inning. And the players are definitely there to play the game. But one of the things I enjoy most about minor league games, is that they make for damn sure that little kids are entertained. Hell, they make sure everyone is entertained. There are contests and so forth pretty much every half inning. These contests usually involve somebody making an ass out of themselves, so pretty much everyone is entertained.

For me, the real drawback of minor league games is the overwhelming family atmosphere of the parks. Particularly at the lower levels of the minors, like A and AA. Bowie is AA. There are a lot of families present. And it is safe and healthy for everyone. However, these days I'm more interested in swearing and making a huge, loud stink than making sure some 6 year old doesn't cry because I want to be a big, loud jerk. This is one thing that the big leagues still have over the minors in terms of fan experience- the privilege of yelling and screaming like a rabid jerk pretty much comes along with the cost of admission.

So in a minor league stadium, my cutting comments are limited to sarcasm and booing, though the possession of cleverness does allow one to be filthy and repulsive on the sly.

Anyhow, back to the game. It's was a great time- we had hot dogs, nachos, beer, ice cream, and even got on the jumbotron. Well, more like the mediumtron, but it was still cool. I've never been so famous as when waving my Giant Bonus Card about for the whole crowd to see. This was part of a contest, and I didn't win it. I blame it on Chimpy for trying to shove me out of the view of the camera in favor of his Bonus Card.

So the game cruised along, and the home team was winning and the weather was nice, and we were all having a great time. But then Bootylicious upped the ante. She pronounced that after the game, we should go get crabs. Not the kind you get from certain Evil Robots' staffers' moms, but the kind you pull out of the Chesapeake Bay and eat. Or come on a truck from North Carolina. Whatever.

So after the game we got in the cars and ended up going to this place in Alexandria called Ernie's. This place has several things wrong with it- most of which relate to the fact that it's in Virginia. And those people don't know anything about anything- hell, they weren't even allowed to have oral sex until last week.

Anyhow, we ate some crabs. They weren't bad. Neither were the oysters. Though the waitress had a look of active stupidity on her face. Like she wasn't just born stupid, but she worked hard at it. Kind of scary, actually.

So we ate our crabs and drank our cheap beer and thorough enjoyed ourselves. Except when the birthday song came on the jukebox and everyone banged along with their mallets. The whole restaurant. It kind of made me want to stand up, tell all those Virginians that only pussies need mallets to crack a crab, and then damn them all to hell.

I should have.

So we ate our crabs and drank our beer and made a mess. Especially Chimpy, who was eating his crabs whole. He's rather uncivilized. Or just too stupid to realize the difference between hard and soft shell crabs. Then Bootylicious's husband told Chimpy exactly what "we" did to his mom last night and we all laughed at his expense.

After we emptied our wallets onto the table we went over to Bootylicious' house watch the sun set from the deck, play poker, drink beer, and soak in the hot tub.

Top that on a Sunday, assholes.