As if last week with my black eye, important meeting, and getting reprimanded by a clerk at target on my purchase wasn’t bad enough, it was opening weekend in major league baseball. We all know that is a holiday to be celebrated. A group of my friends (roomies included) and I all got tickets for our local team’s Saturday game. We went to the bar as soon as it opened (10 am) and as expected the day was a drunken mess.
Not only did I see The Bed Wetter with his girlfriend and sister in tow an hour into the day, but I managed to get 10-15 beers down the hatch before things went sour, and thankfully I wasn’t alone. Between the 9 of us it’s safe to say 150 beers lost their life that day. I wish we could use the excuse that we’re still in college so that it would be acceptable but we’re not, and it’s not. We’re adults and people are starting to get married and have kids and by god we need to grow up.
I ran kicking and screaming away from The Bed Wetter after he invited me to get a drink and hang out with them, made my way to the game, grabbed my 2 beer limited per transaction, told everyone in our group the story about The Bed Wetter and how he is a lying cheating assmunch, and hunkered down for the game.
Unfortunately there was a family that posted up directly in front of us. I thought it would be ok since the girls sat behind the family and the guys sat behind us, it wasn’t. They had a little girl who passed out in the middle of the game and busted her face on the bleachers, instead of being good parents and leaving to get her face checked out they handed her a napkin and continued to watch the game. Lucky for them one of the girls that was with us let the little girl lean on her legs to get her nose to stop bleeding. Unlucky for them, the little boy was sitting in front of me and it’s a good thing he was only 5 or 6 and doesn’t know how awesome beer is because each time I got up I and bought 2 beers he was offered one of them. I know! I’m so horrible, but I thought it was really funny and I wouldn’t have really given a 6 year old a beer. I’m not a bad person. The parents finally caught on to him turning around and going, “ICK!! ” And sticking his tongue out and asked that I kindly stop offering their child alcohol, but they laughed it off and didn’t find security to have me arrested and told him they were proud of him for not giving into peer pressure. Which made me laugh that they called me a peer to a 6 year old. Hrmm… Ah, well.
So, the game ended which was when I decided that would be a good time to go to the bathroom. Anth warned me that they weren’t going to wait for me because they’d get escorted out before I would be able to get back (it wasn’t until after the fact, yesterday actually, that he told me he warned me they wouldn’t be there. I walked back totally expecting them to still be at our seats.) to get back so to just call them and come meet them. So I did, which is when the conversation that ruined the day came, it went something like…
Anth: Come to the bar down the street
Me: I don’t know where that is! Come get me!! I can’t believe you left me, wahhhh!!
Anth: It’s right down the street you dumb bitch
Me: DON’T CALL ME A DUMB BITCH!!!
There was a little more, but the dumb bitch part is all that’s still really clear to me. I hung up on him and texted him that I was going home, then he was all “you would…” And I snapped that I didn’t move in with them to get disrespected, I’m not some dumb skank that they can hump and dump (yeah I don’t know, no humping or dumping has occurred) so don’t treat me like I am.
Eventually he apologized and offered to do my laundry but not after I made the 3 1/2 mile walk back to the apartment, which is also where I found that the hood of my jacket was filled with peanuts and peanut shells. Thanks friends. Too drunk to hail a cab or get aboard public transit I unsnapped my hood and continued my journey home while leaving peanut shell “breadcrumbs” along my path.
Something like an hour and a half later I made it home, passed out for the next 2 days and all is right with the world. So there you have it, my big weekend. These are the kinds of summer stories you have to look forward to. I just hope none of them ever end with “and then the cops showed up.”