A Chestful of Weiners

I'll be brief.  This game shouldn't have been played and not just because it sucked but because the umps didn't care about the 30,000 people who bought tickets to see a game, eat dollar dogs, and watch fireworks.  In the end, a few thousand jackasses remained.  Anthony and I were two of those jackasses but not for the same reason.

Thanks to some crappy ill-conceived traffic patterns in downtown Cleveland (you will not turn left ever), we didn't park the car until about 6:55.  The sky which had cleared after the last down pour was now an ominous deep dark blue.  Intelligently we brush off the dude selling rain ponchos as we were almost at East 9th.  As we crossed East 9th the rain began with a few drops.  By the time we crossed the street, it was pouring and by the time we made it to the gate, it was raining sideways.  Soaked in front and relatively dry in back, we decide to head up to our seats.  The only problem with that idea is that the ramps aren't covered.  Our backs are now as wet as our fronts.  We would remain in a constant state of moisture for the next 6 hours!

Laden with beer, we walk the upper level concourse and whereupon I hear the first stupidest comment ever (there would be so many more), "Clearly it's clearing up over there."  Not.  We order a couple of dollar dogs and as expected, they make the small white buns look like they'd fit a foot long.  As we eat, I notice a crowd next to me.  I am not sure at what point he felt like he needed to worry about the "while supplies last" disclaimer but "clearly" he took it seriously.

Get three dogs ready.  My mistake.  Four dogs....

Finally we play and inning and a half but Kluber looks good so the heavens open and we move to a second rain delay.  A very lengthy rain delay.  After about an hour, the majority of fans begin to leave.  I mean with rain like this, what are the chances?  If you'd have guessed 100% because the umpires hate Indians fans, you'd be spot on!  The fans that remained would not forget.

It rains some more.  Dollar dogs become "2 for 1 Dollar Dogs" and that strange ginger ballpark MC dude gets desperate to entertain the fans.  Not that we need entertaining because there are two games on the big screen, one of which is the Tigers at Orioles.  His idea of entertainment is to go interview his fucking brother who created the "2 for 1" graphic.  I am not sure what was more appalling, that he has a brother or that he thought we fucking cared.  A bit later he returned from some cozy warm spot with Brandy the Rigid calendar model (who I noted did not have a piece of hair out of place) to show us the weather.  With the kids gone, I was able to shout a hearty "FU".

As the breeze picks up, the shivers set in and we procure two large garbage bags from the staff which we use as rain ponchos.

I don't think it's nice, you laughin'

That damned garbage bag was a life saver but by now, I am pruned.  After some hours, Tito walks the field with the umps and we figure, this is it.  But no, the dry as a bone ginger freak pops on the screen to tell us the game will begin at 12:10 so we mosey down to the familiar comforts of Section 138, Row L, Seats 3 and 4 as I figured no one in our group would be stupid enough to stay.  They weren't.

I won't discuss the game.  I will just say that if you're wondering who would have been crazy enough to stay and you're thinking that it was probably douchey Rays fans and frat boys, you'd be correct.  There was one bright spot.  A young man with a piercing demented spirit wail kept us laughing despite the idiocy surrounding us.  Patience wearing thin, we leave at 2:30 after sitting through the 7th inning (seriously, fuck the damned stretch!).  Anthony trashes his poncho, then regrets the decision.  I retain my beloved poncho and it's now familiar ecosystem to the last!