Toll Roads, Sidewalks and Feedbags

Having successfully survived Philly, we decided to further boost the economy of the Northeast and drive the toll roads back to NYC. We attempted to bypass this legally mandated theft and asked Barbara (our GPS) to get us to NYC without going through any tolls. It took her about 20 minutes to calculate this route. It had us briefly dipping into Canada, Syracuse and Utica. It also had us arriving in NYC at about 5:30 am. We opted to pay our way.

We drove through New Jersey once more, Todd dying inside a little along the way, drove through the Lincoln Tunnel and arrived in the city. Upon arriving in Manhattan, Will’s driving added about 2 hours of travel time to our destination (the bus stop where Katie was catching her bus back to Boston). At one point we managed to get our car into Penn Station’s bus depot, the largest one in New York. Needless to say there were some white knuckles.

We managed to get Katie to the station, said goodbye and the two of us headed towards Brooklyn. We parked the car (we’d be ticketed again) and hopped on the train. Before hitting the game, Will recommended that we head to an old watering hole of his in Manhattan. We did, and liberally took advantage of the establishment’s free hot wings. We each paid $4 for a beer, and $0 for what we believe came out to about 47 hot wings; $4 has never gone further in this city.

We hopped back on the train and en route, Will explained that Citi Field was located in chop-shop central. This observation proved quite accurate. To the left of the station in Queens is an exceptionally expensive baseball field, to the right are the tennis courts that host to the U.S. Open and straight ahead are about 13 chop-shops in crumbling garages. Good stuff.

Will scored tickets, naturally, and was nearly shived by a scalper after giving away some extra tickets he had acquired to a group that the scalper hoped to sell to (yes this sentence ended with a preposition, you get what you pay for at UM). Thankfully we entered the park kidneys intact.

Citi Field was beautiful and we procured seats closer to the field than ever before. We literally were inches away from the third baseman. We took in a true battle of a game, as the Mets and Cubs slugged it out over who was more of a disappointment this season. The Amazins managed to get the W and the loyal crowd was happy for it.

We hoped on the train and headed out of Queens and back to Brooklyn. We met up with Henry and Shannon at Union Hall (after, of course, drinking some tall boys on a stoop down the street before entering… cost effectiveness is a necessity). We had a blast, played some bocce, and closed the place down at 4 a.m. On the way back to our hosts’, Will and Henry got an argument over who could best procure a discounted fare from the cabbie. By “argument” I do NOT mean a friendly exchange of jests regarding whose better at something. No, the discussion these two had sounded more like the British House of Commons, without the appeal of the accents and tweed suits. I’m not sure who one said debate, but let’s be honest, Henry was talking to a man that is to thrift what Mohammed Ali is to boxing.

At this point, Todd’s natural grace became evident. While walking down the sidewalk (always a potential hazard for him), he turned to chat with a group several paces behind him. While doing so, he managed to trip, fall and incur two scuffed knees, a legitimately deep laceration on his shin, two scuffed elbows and a scuffed palm: New York City sidewalks 1, Todd 0. Shannon nursed him back to health up in the apartment and even provided him with a Sponge Bob band-aid for his toe. This may have emasculated some, but Todd kept his manliness in tact in between bouts of sobbing. The remaining wounds were too big for a Sponge Bob band-aid, so Shannon used here field-nurse tactics and provided bandages made from gauze and duct tape. Good stuff. We closed out the night with yet another bout of drinking Jenga and finally punched our tickets at about 5:30. This city does not encourage sleep.

As morning arrived (far, far too quickly) we said our goodbyes and headed down towards Baltimore, where we would be staying with our friend from BHS and UM, Josh Mosby and his girlfriend Erica who goes to school in the city. (FYI, we have just been passed by a middle-aged couple in a Saturn who are involved in some “nefarious” activities… yes sir.) But I digress.)

Our drive behind us, we were greeted by Josh and Erica and then headed out to the National’s game in D.C. and caught up along the way. Still recovering from New York, we both fell a sleep on the subway and put a little more fuel in the tanks. The park was cool and while Will applied his trade (brown sack of peanuts en tow, which was referred to by Josh as his “feed bag”) Todd, Erica and Josh had a beer. Will, once again, exceeded expectations and acquired a $189 all-you-can-eat ticket. Unreal. The all-you-can-eat box was ridiculous. It wasn’t buffet style, rather, you were seated a table complete with white linen clothes. Will put the feed bag into play and brought everyone back some goodies.

The Nats lost, of course, to the Marlins and we headed out. We caught a train to DuPont Circle and had some unbelievably good empanadas at a joint familiar to our hosts. We hopped back on the train and headed back to Josh and Erica’s. We chatted for a bit and hit the sack, the two of us in desperate need of sleep.

The next morning we cleaned up and headed up to Baltimore for the Orioles game. We stopped at a Korean grocery store for lunch, which was absurdly good. Will, so overjoyed to get his hands on some sushi, through in a lip full of ginger to celebrate. We arrived at Camden and Will promptly acquired tickets. He also continued in his quest to offset every possible expense. He bought 4 tickets for $30, literally walked about a hundred feet away and promptly sold them to a scalper for $75. Ridiculous. The art of his salesmanship was in full display as he went back and forth with this guy over a dollar: “74 man,” “No, 75,” and so forth. Ultimately he was given $74.97. Josh stood in awe and all Todd could say was “you get used to it.”

We entered Camden in the black once again and took in the beauty of the famous park. The O’s took on the Rangers and took the win. We had great seats once again and heckled the Oriels’ closer Kam Mikilio (a native of Belgrade, MT), yelling things such as “Jackrabbit lane!” (A road in Belgrade) and “Panther pride” (the high school mascot) at him. Belgrade has an inferiority complex with Bozeman, so we felt obliged to continue to justify it. He heard, he heard.

We left the game and strolled around Baltimore’s inner harbor, which is a very cool area. We had a brew at the ESPN Zone, chatted with a couple there (who bought Will a beer) and decided that dinner was calling our name. We headed out and insisted that Josh take us through West Baltimore. Wow. The image we had of this place based upon its depiction in HBO’s The Wire proved to be very accurate. Scary, scary, scary. We decided not to dwell and gave up on the plan to do some real estate speculation. Instead, we headed back to Josh’s, picked up Erica and headed out for some Blue Crab.

The crab feast was ridiculous. We were seated and atop a large sheet of butcher’s paper were poured out a couple dozen crabs. One of the primary utensils used in the process of obtaining the meat is a large wooden mallet, so needless to say it was awesome. Will quipped that there were “no manners on crab night” as the process leaves you covered in Old Bay seasoning; sage words indeed.

We headed back to our hosts’ house and relaxed in our food coma. Will had acquired all of the leftovers and placed them into another feedbag that would be brought to the Pirates game the following day. We relaxed and watched some bull riding on TV, none of us fully aware of the rules. However, I can safely say we knew enough to root against the filthy Australians. We chatted for a while and eventually hit the sack. More to come…

Todd & Will