Just a Dolphin Mam
So Otis (you know Otis, right – smart guy, excellent writer, cute kids, hot wife – Otis) had this idea of posting photos from his iPhone during the month of November with a brief little story about them; November being the month in which people tend to try and write novels and set goals of posting every day or whatever lofty thing we decide we should totally tackle in the month right when the holiday crazy sets in. PERFECT TIMING Y’ALL.
I will make no such goal for myself. I mean good Lord. I don’t know where 2009 went. I am blessed that I have fantastic friends and an awesome job that keeps me so busy the days fly by, so don’t get me wrong; I’m not exactly complaining – it’s just that I’ve never quite had time go so quickly. I’ve been remiss in not sharing how some of it went.
Again, can’t promise a picture a day, and heck, with Mobypicture some of these already posted here albeit without a story. But I think I can get close. And for starters, how about a few at once to catch up, hmm?
You may be familiar with Alan and his annoying fun month jetting all over the country hopping from ballpark to ballpark taking in baseball game after baseball game just living it up and have a grand ole time while his friends were left behind to read about it via blog and Twitter. At the end of September, one Friday I suppose, I was at the office with my friend Brandi surfing the interwebs when we hit Alan’s Twitter feed and then Flickr stream and the pictures of Landshark stadium came up. Much laughter ensued. The Landshark website was next, with its cheesy marketing copy. Which we mocked mercilessly, because we are snarky smartasses and that is what we do. And this is coming from a girl who loves sharks. But that Landshark bit – gets me every. time.
Fast forward … 6 hours. Long time readers know what happens when April gets restless. Bonus points if you pay attention enough to know it typically happens during a certain time of year. So when Alan IM’d later that night lamenting that dugout seats like the ones he had that Friday night were only available in pairs for Saturday’s game; the idea of him just buying a pair of tickets and just not using the second never crossed our minds. No no – instead, me getting on a plane the next morning and flying to Miami to go to the game was PERFECTLY REASONABLE.
Aside from the person picking me up at the airport, only Betty knew exactly where I was going. So she kept me company as I waited for my plane, which meant testing out the new MMS iPhone capabilites with hot dude picture texts.
(This really isn’t integral to the story, but it’s a picture, and it’s hot dudes. Some people call this is a win-win.)
Brandi was the second person to find out where I was, once I made arrival at the stadium. It’s kinda our thing.
I mean not going to stadiums for each other. The Landshark thing. Sharks in general really. And in a totally platonic way. Anywhoo… The stadium is interesting. Tailgating and cheerleaders at a baseball game? Odd. I’m glad I got to go to the park, especially given the name – I mean COME ON that’s like 99% of the draw right there – but when the baseball feels like an afterthought it bugs me. Oh sure, it’ll be fixed in 2012 but then the world ends!
I totally get why Alan wanted dugout seats for another game, and these were easily the best seats I’ve had for any game. I snapped this pic and texted it to my friend Metsgrrl, who replied with my favorite text of the night “WTF are you doing in Miami? I won’t go to Flushing and they’re not even your team.”
To be fair, I had tickets for my team that weekend and they clearly warranted getting the hell out of town for. There was a little Marlins fan down the row from us that I adored for his heckling skills. Good heckling so hard to find these days. Random stuff, like asking Castillo for his batting glove and then my personal favorite – “Hey Beltran! Beltran! You remember me? Remember me from Houston? You gave me your autograph once.” I announced I would adopt him and make him mine. It was pointed out to me though that he was a Marlins fan, so there he stayed with his kind.
The next day, I spent my hours pre-flight home on the beach, next to a French guy reading a poker book. Because there is no escape. Absolutely beautiful beach. Could sit there for hours (and pretty much did).
[Seriously. It never gets old. Ask Alan.]