Fenway Sucky, Sucky
I harbor no resentment towards Boston. I know there historically has been a lot of bad blood between New York and Beantown, but I would say that most of that ill will has come from the more northern of the two cities and has been based in some form or another around the cities respective sports teams. That said, when it comes to drinking, I think Boston is a great city to visit from time to time. I mean wouldn’t any city that’s known for it’s Irish population and sports teams plagued with curses (although that hasn’t been so true lately) be a great place to get bombed? This actually gives me an idea for another blog topic...stay tuned.
Anyway, I have a few friends in Boston that I go to visit every couple of months, I’ll call them Jersey and Boston Red. I’ve known both of these guys for about six years now and they’re quite interesting characters that in many ways embody the area of the country they are from...you guessed it, New Jersey and Boston, respectively. Jersey says things like “twournament” and “wudder,” and thinks that Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi are one person shy of making a Holy Jersey Trinity. While Boston Red is your quintessential Masshole, who has a fetish for everything related to Boston sports and would get freaked out if you ask him to leave the state of Massachusetts.
So I cruise up to Beantown this weekend so I can go to the Red Sox game on Saturday night with Jersey and Boston Red. Now if you’ve ever been to Fenway Park, you understand that going to a Sox game is an entire day event revolving entirely around consuming copious amounts of beer and foods that are sure to reduce your life span by a good few months. We get to the Cask and Flagon in the afternoon and proceed to start drinking like Ted Kennedy on election night.
About six pitchers into our Cask run, it’s getting close to game time, so we close out our tab and head over to the oldest park in the country. Usually when I visit Fenway, there’s a mandatory stop between the Cask and the stadium to get a sausage and peppers before heading in; however, on Saturday I was too full from lunch and appetizers to make it worth while...next time.
So we go inside and grab a couple of brews before heading to our seats. By the way, I think it’s park rules that you have to have two beers in your hands at all times at Fenway. It seems like everyone in the park is stumbling around carrying two beers with that look on their face like their two sheets into it and momma has just pulled out the clothes pins and is reaching in the laundry basket for the third. I especially like those dumb, hot, wanna-be Red Sox Nation girls with the pink hats and random beer stains all over their tight baby tees. I love going to baseball games in Boston.
Next thing you know, it’s the middle of the seventh and their playing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” over the loud speakers. Another good drunk song, by the way...”buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks (AND A BEEEER!).” I always add that little extra line in for effect. The crowd around me seems to appreciate it.
As we get into the bottom of the seventh inning, this hot Asian chick with fake boobs, who’s sitting about six rows below us and slightly to our left, starts to get into a pretty heated argument with the guy behind her. She stands up and gets in his face and is yelling about something, while the guys around us start to tell her to sit down. As the argument starts to escalate and the white guy she’s with is trying to ignore his seemingly psycho Asian girlfriend, I, in my drunken-half-losing-internal monologue-state decide to yell out, “sucky, sucky five dolla!”
Well of course all the guys around me have a nice laugh out of my inebriated racist-sexist comment and we go back to watching the game. After a long pause (it was at least two minutes) an Asian guy, who happens to be sitting next to the psycho Asian girl who’s still arguing with the guy behind her gets up out of his seat, turns around, picks out a random guy about eight rows up and starts to shout, “What? You can say shit like that about my sister with my back turned, but you won’t say it to my face? Why don’t you come down here and say it to my face?”
Needless to say, this guy - who’s not sitting anywhere near me - has no clue what this Asian kid is talking about...which of course is my tasteless comment about his sister. He continues to call this innocent bystander out as the ballpark security get to his seat and proceed to escort him, his sister and her quiet boyfriend out of the park, to the delight of everyone around us.
I mean, yes they were causing unnecessary drama and they probably deserved to get kicked out, but I never once saw security come up to talk with the white guy that the Asian dude was calling out...or the white guy that was sitting behind them that the chick was arguing with. You can always rely on Boston authority figures to side with the white guys. After all, we’re just a bunch of Irish guys trying to get drunk and enjoy a baseball game.
NYCDG
Anyway, I have a few friends in Boston that I go to visit every couple of months, I’ll call them Jersey and Boston Red. I’ve known both of these guys for about six years now and they’re quite interesting characters that in many ways embody the area of the country they are from...you guessed it, New Jersey and Boston, respectively. Jersey says things like “twournament” and “wudder,” and thinks that Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi are one person shy of making a Holy Jersey Trinity. While Boston Red is your quintessential Masshole, who has a fetish for everything related to Boston sports and would get freaked out if you ask him to leave the state of Massachusetts.
So I cruise up to Beantown this weekend so I can go to the Red Sox game on Saturday night with Jersey and Boston Red. Now if you’ve ever been to Fenway Park, you understand that going to a Sox game is an entire day event revolving entirely around consuming copious amounts of beer and foods that are sure to reduce your life span by a good few months. We get to the Cask and Flagon in the afternoon and proceed to start drinking like Ted Kennedy on election night.
About six pitchers into our Cask run, it’s getting close to game time, so we close out our tab and head over to the oldest park in the country. Usually when I visit Fenway, there’s a mandatory stop between the Cask and the stadium to get a sausage and peppers before heading in; however, on Saturday I was too full from lunch and appetizers to make it worth while...next time.
So we go inside and grab a couple of brews before heading to our seats. By the way, I think it’s park rules that you have to have two beers in your hands at all times at Fenway. It seems like everyone in the park is stumbling around carrying two beers with that look on their face like their two sheets into it and momma has just pulled out the clothes pins and is reaching in the laundry basket for the third. I especially like those dumb, hot, wanna-be Red Sox Nation girls with the pink hats and random beer stains all over their tight baby tees. I love going to baseball games in Boston.
Next thing you know, it’s the middle of the seventh and their playing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” over the loud speakers. Another good drunk song, by the way...”buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks (AND A BEEEER!).” I always add that little extra line in for effect. The crowd around me seems to appreciate it.
As we get into the bottom of the seventh inning, this hot Asian chick with fake boobs, who’s sitting about six rows below us and slightly to our left, starts to get into a pretty heated argument with the guy behind her. She stands up and gets in his face and is yelling about something, while the guys around us start to tell her to sit down. As the argument starts to escalate and the white guy she’s with is trying to ignore his seemingly psycho Asian girlfriend, I, in my drunken-half-losing-internal monologue-state decide to yell out, “sucky, sucky five dolla!”
Well of course all the guys around me have a nice laugh out of my inebriated racist-sexist comment and we go back to watching the game. After a long pause (it was at least two minutes) an Asian guy, who happens to be sitting next to the psycho Asian girl who’s still arguing with the guy behind her gets up out of his seat, turns around, picks out a random guy about eight rows up and starts to shout, “What? You can say shit like that about my sister with my back turned, but you won’t say it to my face? Why don’t you come down here and say it to my face?”
Needless to say, this guy - who’s not sitting anywhere near me - has no clue what this Asian kid is talking about...which of course is my tasteless comment about his sister. He continues to call this innocent bystander out as the ballpark security get to his seat and proceed to escort him, his sister and her quiet boyfriend out of the park, to the delight of everyone around us.
I mean, yes they were causing unnecessary drama and they probably deserved to get kicked out, but I never once saw security come up to talk with the white guy that the Asian dude was calling out...or the white guy that was sitting behind them that the chick was arguing with. You can always rely on Boston authority figures to side with the white guys. After all, we’re just a bunch of Irish guys trying to get drunk and enjoy a baseball game.
NYCDG
posted by NYC Drunk Guy at 12:49 AM
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