|Jott From Zachery Moneypenny on Monday, 4/2/2007 2:10 PM|
|Hey everyone, it’s Zach. Just getting out of the Brewers game. Glen Sheath (?) pitched a complete game, pretty awesome, there are tons of people here. Let’s see,both parking lots were filled, we had to park in a neighborhood and then cut through a Jewish graveyard and then a military graveyard to get here and then we had to wait for about 45 minutes before we could find somebody selling tickets.|
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I’m back from the game now, and the pictures should be uploaded to Flickr by now. It was pretty awesome, but touch and go for awhile. Once we hit the 94-894 interchange traffic stopped. Then we saw the overroad sign proclaim (grandly) that “All General Parking Lots Full”. Shit. So we were directed to get off at State Fair Park and ride a shuttle they had set up. We exited and lo and behold: one thousand people waiting to get on one yellow school bus. We had no tickets, and we were about to park miles and miles from the stadium. Peterstiffly suggested we just cruise around and try to park close enough to hike the rest of the way. We eventually found a spot on a residential street up the road from the Encore Strip-Club-in-a-House and set off on foot. Which way to proceed? Duh, follow the two guys with electric blue Brewers shirts on… through one graveyard… and then through another graveyard. Then across a street and down a hill and VOILA: we’re there… still with no tickets.
We weaved our way through many parts of both parking lots, and there was simply no one selling any tickets. All around us people were clamoring to buy three, four, or in one case, six tickets. It became preposterous that NO ONE was selling any, even for outrageous prices. After traversing the bus lot two times, we decided to let fate decide. We waited on the bridge to the stadium from the Sausage Haus and just held up two fingers. Forty-seven people smugly waved back and said, “Peace.” We, especially Kyle, were not amused. One lady ran up with her ticket and said in a sing-song voice, “I have a tic-kit and youuuu don’t. Smellllll my tickkket!” As she said the second part she turned around and put the ticket right on her butthole. I have never in my life wanted to commit violence against a lady as much as right then. Drunk fucking bitch. When we finally got our own tickets I wanted to find her and tell her to suck my fucking ticket and put it right on my wanger.
So, in any case, after being emotionally abused by drunk folks on the bridge for 15 minutes a guy walked up and sold us two Terrace Box seats for $50 each. We snapped ’em up and got on our way. Our formally leaden hearts had perked up considerably, and everything was just dandy. Once we got to our seats it was the top of the third and we were fellin’ fine.
So Glen Sheath pitched a 2-hit complete game, which was awesome, and Bill Hall hit a solo homer. Nice way to start off the season; it was a shame we couldn’t muster enough goddamn forethought to do it correctly, but in the end it worked out and we got a nice adventure out of it.
On the way home, while I was doing 70+ somewhere around Delafield, my speedometer stopped working. Feelin’ fine.