Day 287: I’d Rather Leave In The 3rd Inning [Friday Thoughts W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. Wait, there was no cane in Citizen Kane! Shhh…you wanna get sued?!? It’s Friday, July 2nd, 20Twenty1. The weather in Astoria is 77° & Pantone 17-1503 and somewhere, somebody is being watched. They can see them in the window. The shadowy figure. What are they doing? What do they want from him? How long have they been watching? He freezes in place while we watches the figure stand still. They’ve been caught and they know it. But little does he know, there’s nobody watching him. On the contrary, that person is turned the other way and it is him that is creepily watching someone. How the turn tables. And me? I always stare back when I’m being watched. The game of chicken gives me a thrill. I also have some things on my mind.
– I’ve been to a lot of miserable baseball games in my day. I’ve seen my team get completely shat on, I’ve been heckled, I’ve had objects thrown at me and yet, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve left early [in my adult baseball fan life]. Once, it was due to a massive rain delay in the 7th inning of a not-so-close game. The other time, it was because I got completely obliterated, decided to smoke a cigarette in a dark corner of Yankee Stadium and got kicked out. Both were Yankee games that I still don’t regret leaving. And yet, I’m still stupid enough to keep going back to the Bronx.
I’ll be posting the haikus from Wednesday night tomorrow, but some things don’t fit into shitty poems. My main man, my favorite baseball player, Shohei Ohtani was pitching at 95˚ temperatures, a chance of rain and the shitty atmosphere of the Yankee Stadium bleachers wasn’t going to stop me from going there with a smile on my face. And then everything went wrong. Shohei only lasted two outs while coughing up 7 runs. This would’ve been halfway stomachable if it wasn’t for the company that surrounded me. There was a guy. This fucking guy. He was drunk, he was loud and he did not give a flying fuck about anything. I sat like a gargoyle while he repeatedly screamed in my ear for two hours. Angels suck. Yankees suck. Everyone sucks. Hawks suck. Ohtani sucks. Dodgers are better. Nonstop. Right in my ear. He wanted so badly for me to fight him. He even said it as soon as I sat down. But I somehow didn’t budge. I just kept grinding my teeth and fighting off panic attacks.
His friends and family kept apologizing on his behalf, but did absolutely nothing to shut him up. In fact, they kept buying him more beer. They also kept stealing his phone, because whenever he had his phone, he would use it to blast the soundtrack to Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. I wish I was making that part up, because it totally sounds like something I would make up. But he would play a song and then yell out “This is the money team! Wall Street 2, baby!” Eventually, he calmed down in order to flirt with some girls that were sitting next to him. And they were…actually into him? Like they thought that him being a drunken nuisance was cute and funny? Yankee fans are a really specific breed of mutant. After two hours, it was still only the third inning. And the sky opened the fuck up.
The rain came, and it did so fast and hard. If I was ever in a burning building or an evacuation scenario, I pray to god that I’m not in the Yankee Stadium bleachers. People trying to get cover built a barrier that nobody could pass. It took over 5 minutes to traverse 30 feet. It took me another 30 minutes just to find my goddamned way out of the hellhole. I got spat out at the exact opposite point that I needed to be and happily walked around the stadium in the pouring rain. Because I was free. Yankee Stadium is a prison of the mind, body and soul. If you feel like you’ve had enough, you have every right to escape, even if it’s the third inning. I had empty train rides home, my ass remained dry and when the Angels eventually won at 1:30 in the morning, I was sitting comfortably at home eating Taco Bell. The way life should be.
– I really hope I’m not alone on this one. But whenever I need to remember something, I sit on the toilet. I feel like this is a normal thing, as the toilet is sometimes nicknamed The Thinking Chair. I’ve noticed recently that sometimes Willy meanders around the kitchen with no real direction. Then he’ll go into his litter box only to come back out a few seconds later. Then he beelines to a location in the apartment. I feel like he’s doing what humans do. I can imagine him thinking, “Now what was I about to do? Crap”. And then he’ll go to the litter box and say, “Oh yeah, I was gonna go on the bed and stare at the closet door for two hours. Duh, Willy!” and then do just that. Just like we do.
– I knew there was something else I intended on writing today, but I can’t for the life of me remember. I went and sat on the toilet for a minute, but nothing happened. The litter box looks tempting, but I don’t think I would fit in it. So I guess I’ll never remember what I was going to write. But maybe I’ll remember to clean the litter box. Maybe…
– Today is the 24 year anniversary of a tornado hitting Chesaning. Yesterday was the 5 year anniversary of me going to a Mets game in the middle of a tornado watch. The clouds outside today look very tornado-like, so I checked the one single tree outside our window to see how windy it was. For the first time ever, I observed the tree making literally no movement at all. That tree is always moving. But the motherfucker is still right now. Which makes it obvious, we’re in the middle of a reverse tornado. Also, I need to clean my windows. And change the litter box. And wash my smelly sweat-soaked clothes. And probably dust, too.
– Try this trick over the weekend: Do all my chores for me. Thanks.
Have a samaritany weekend, everyone!