The Fenway
You: Hey Sabitathica, tell me about the baseball game you went to.
Sabitathica: Alright.
I went to Fenway Park on Sunday with my father, sister, and my wonder-niece Sarah to see the Red Sox play the Cardinals. We took the T.
If Rashid were here and you got him talking about baseball (not difficult), he might tell you that there's three possible outcomes to any game:
1. Sometimes you win
2. Sometimes you lose
3. Sometimes it rains
In the present case the BoSox chose option 1, though not without first flirting with option 3.
After the National Anthem (sung by a New Hampshire girls' choir) but before the first pitch, the rains began to fall.
We waited 45ish minutes while the weather stabilized.
There were many quintessentially baseball-ish events:
The rain delay itself,
two home runs,
eating peanuts and "accidentally" throwing the empty shells at my niece,
several ground rule doubles,
a broken bat (a la The Natural),
myriad double plays.
The game went long. After failing to capitalize on several opportunities, Boston finally cinched it in the 13th inning. Hooray!
This was my wonder-niece's first professional baseball game. Good times.
Later that night, I dreamt I was on a plane in freefall.
~~~~~~~
Next morning - Monday - the wonder-niece and I went to Borders, one of my favorite traditions. We picked up some books which the educational system in its wisdom has decided she must read before she begins middle school in the Fall, and we ate pastries at the cafe.
To Logan in the afternoon to catch my flight.
Logan...
Logan...
Mine was a connecting flight back to Bedlam and the first leg was delayed due to weather in LaGuardia. If I ever rewrite that song from the Sound of Music, it might contain the line:
Raindrops on windows while waiting at airports,
this is one of my least favorite things.
Bad weather and air travel don't go.
When we did finally get into the air there was less turbulence than I'd been bracing for.
By the skin of my teeth did I make my connecting flight out of LaGuardia. A situation not made easier by the fact that the layout of this airport requires you to pass through a security checkpoint when you go from one concourse to another.
On the flight back I found myself sitting next to Jim, a good guy returning to Bedlam from an interview with Google in nyc. We exchanged cards.
I guess it was a weekend of baseball. The plane banked steeply starboard after takeoff and I was able to look across the aisle into Shea Stadium and watch for half a minute the Mets and the Mariners play below us.
