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Today I started off the day with even more bad timing. I meant to go to GI Joe's in Northgate and get a scorecard book, and then take a bus to Safeco from Northgate, and get to the game a few hours early and photograph batting practice! Then two things happened -- one, I forgot the battery for my camera and didn't notice until I was at Northgate -- and two, the GI Joe store didn't actually have a reasonable scorecard book. Grr. I drove home, seeing the 5 bus up Greenwood, and when I got back, I realized that I could either go straight to the bus stop and catch that bus, not grabbing the battery, or I could grab the battery and probably miss the bus. I chose the latter. It's okay, it was a gorgeous, sunny day in the mid-60's; not at all bad for standing outside or walking.
It all worked out okay, I guess. I ended up getting there early enough to be one of the first 20,000 fans, and got a calendar. I was too late to see batting practice, but I was early enough to get pictures of Bobby Madritsch and Carlos Silva warming up. I also ended up getting a seat in section 106, in the right field stands. Usually, these are good seats, except I had the fortune to be sitting between an extremely loud drunk mulletted guy, and an extremely stinky and large teenage boy. The joys of the game started when the team had barely taken the field and the drunk guy yells out, practically in my ear, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRET!"
Yeah, okay, it's Bret Boone's birthday, but can he really hear you from across the field, jerk?
( The rest of the game, which involves mostly moving back a row from that crazy yelling drunk guy )
It all worked out okay, I guess. I ended up getting there early enough to be one of the first 20,000 fans, and got a calendar. I was too late to see batting practice, but I was early enough to get pictures of Bobby Madritsch and Carlos Silva warming up. I also ended up getting a seat in section 106, in the right field stands. Usually, these are good seats, except I had the fortune to be sitting between an extremely loud drunk mulletted guy, and an extremely stinky and large teenage boy. The joys of the game started when the team had barely taken the field and the drunk guy yells out, practically in my ear, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRET!"
Yeah, okay, it's Bret Boone's birthday, but can he really hear you from across the field, jerk?
( The rest of the game, which involves mostly moving back a row from that crazy yelling drunk guy )
