Last night I attended my second-to-last Mets game of the season – surprisingly for a Wednesday night with no freebies and no significant outcome the stadium filled close to 2/3 of the way up. I got there early early and got to actually enjoy wandering around looking for one, just one waterproof jacket (I was unable to find a SINGLE one. Not that I’d have bought it. Unless it was under $25.) – free of stadium tourists and jackass troupes and slow-walking packs of girlfriends, Citifield rocks pretty hard. Next year I’d like to be level with third base, somewhere between 4-6 rows back, I think.
The game itself was…sad. But we all knew that going in, so we cheered for our fellas and hollered "Laaaaarry….Laaaaaarry" at Chipper Jones and were unsurprised when we stranded 124 men on base and enjoyed our ice cream in little helmets.
As the attendees headed towards the 7 train entrance, a lone trumpet player was playing "The Candyman Can," which people pretty much ignored – one guy yelled "Nice ornamentation" and had the privilege of having himself be ignored as well. Then the trumpeter switched to the Addams Family theme, and when he got to the famous "duh duh duh DUH" the mostly silent, sullen crowd *snap snap*’d in unison, without a word. It was awesome.
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Another perfectly New York experience was a few weeks ago when I was going to the Cyclones game – I disembarked near the Russian neighborhood Little Odessa and was walking past a merengue-playing band on the boardwalk while listening to Italian Carla Bruni sing a French folk song on my iPod en route to get a knish in a historically Jewish neighborhood. Multi-culti to the max.
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In other news, my birthday is coming up Monday…. I’m always torn between making it known and counting down and creating a fuss…and hiding it so I’m not inevitably disappointed when My Birthday is not A Big Deal to people around me. I’ll be spending the day at work and choir practice, and instead of a party I’m going to try and lure a bunch of friends out to Dempsey’s Trivia Night on Wednesday.
One of the only truly frustrating things about living in NYC is that everybody quadruple books themselves, requires begging and pleading to get them to show up anywhere they weren’t already going to be, then bails at the last minute to do whatever’s closest. So this year I’ve planned not to plan and will enjoy my night of Hamlet (thanks again, Aged P) and treat myself to a sampling of Manhattan’s finest cupcakeries.
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Also! I have achieved my dream of climbing into my room from my fire escape! I was locked out, but got let into the building by some kindly drunk residents who paused to heckle me about the Mets gear I was sporting then stumbled into their apartment mid-defense of the Phillies’ phreaking ‘tude. So I made my way up to the roof to watch and wait for K-Cup (I envisioned being kind of like a watchful gargoyle awaiting her return) then realized…I could just climb down. So I did, in the dark, without even losing my baseball cap. I was briefly afraid that the lady who lives above me would see my legs going past her window, or someone would notice me breaking into my own window, but if she did I was long inside jumping around jubilantly and wishing someone had been there to freak out by magically appearing behind them.
But then I wouldn’t have been locked out. Why yes, I am tempted to travel in and out of my room entirely by fire escape now – thanks for asking!