|My seatmates 2009|
It was November 1st, Game 3 of the World Series, a cool Sunday evening. The Eagles were across the street playing the NY Giants, so the parking lots were packed with Eagles and Phillies fans. This article is not even about the game. The Phils lost. Lidge sucked. Damon stole third while standing on first. This story is about the tailgate and the events that took place prior to the game. What had no become a tradition, the World Series tailgate would have a menu like no other game. We sat in Lot F2 and ate off of fine china and actual silverware. We tucked napkins in our collars and for that 10-15 minute time during the meal, we were etiquette personified. Filet Mignon, Lobster Tail, and Jumbo Shrimp were on the menu. Unfortunately, it all deteriorated from here.
As usual the drink menu consisted of such staples as Miller High Life and Jameson, but added to the list was Jefferson 1812 Single Barrel Bourbon (close to 100 proof). My ticketmate was slowly becoming drunk, or so I thought. As I saw him finish a beer, he did not place it in the trashbag, but haphazardly tossed it over his shoulder to smash on the ground. If you have ever seen the pie-eating contest in Stand by Me…when everyone started to do what Lard Ass did, that is exactly what happened here. Bottles smashing all over the place. People actually going into their trash bins and tossing empties. I finished a Jameson bottle and this guy next to me asked for it. He tossed it at a passing trash truck. I can honestly say that I threw no bottles. I should have, but I did not. The parking lot now looked like Beirut. A complete war zone. Some dizzy self-righteous broad came over with a piece of cardboard so I could sweep up the glass. I told her to get her fat ass back over with her man and yelled over for the dude to control his bitch. Ok, so I wasn’t exactly sober either…
Now the bike cops arrived. Here is how that conversation went:
Cop: You two have tickets to the game?
Seatmate: That’s none of your business. Nice bikes.
Cop: Now I’ll ask you. Do you have tickets to the game?
Me: Yea, are you gonna scan them in for us?
Cop: One more broken bottle and your friend is coming with us. It is time to pack up.
Seatmate: We will pack up when we are ready. It is the World Fucking Series.
Cop: You are ready now.
Me: Did you just try to pull the Jedi Mind Trick on us?
So we slowly packed up our gear and ambled into the stadium. Walking through shards of glass like in some DMZ. We lost the game that day, but the time and load we tied on will live in infamy.
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