Last Updated on: 17th October 2013, 03:28 pm
Well excitement and action seem to have come to a stop around here for the lasst 2 little bit, so I figured I’d tell a story I made mention of a few days ago. It’s a long and drunken one so settle in. Also, for the record. It’s not raining.
Our story begins sometime in September when the Jays played their last game of last season. They missed the playoffs and we were all sad. We said that we should all still go to the Blue Jays home opener in April. Many agreed but the core group of us knew half would backout and we’d get down to a reasonable number. Over the course of the off-season the Jays began adding big name after big name and we got really excited. Over the coarse of a couple of months the team went from a nothing, to a contender. The Home Opener party was going to be huge!
We bought the cheap tickets ($9) to sit in the 500 level where all the poor partying college kids always sit and since we had gotten the tickets cheap, we had money to spare to rent a limo to go down, take us bar to bar afterwards and bring us home. It was gonna be perfect. Plus my buddy, also from Oshawa, had worked for a limo place in Oshawa when he was younger and got us a sweet deal!
So the group from school drove down to Oshawa on the day of. It was beautiful in Belleville when we started out. Sun out, not a cloud in the sky. This was early April and as you’ll all remember it had been warm for a few weeks. As we got closer to Oshawa, only about an hour trip, the clouds set in, it began to rain a little, then a little harder until by the time we were in my buddy’s driveway IT WAS SNOWING! The ground was covered and it was still comming down hard. It was unreal.
Nothing was going to dampen our spirts though. The 8 of us piled in to the limo in his driveway and we were ready to go. I”ll explain the logic here a bit. We did drive an hour to meet a limo in another town, but that’s because 3 of us were from that town and could house everyone for the night after the game at our parents places so no one would have to drive from Oshawa back to Belleville – and a limo all the way from Belleville would be much more expensive.
So everyone had brough their own booze or beer for the car ride. But there was a bottle of “low-quality” champagne in the car which I believe is standard. We’re poor college kids out for a party, we weren’t picky. The lid was popped on the champagne before we were even out of my buddy’s driveway. Everyone grabbed a glass and the first drink of the afternoon was down to the toast of “GO JAYS GO!”
So as we head for Toronto everyone is tyin’ in to their beers or whiskey or coolers or whatever else was loaded up in that car. There were 7 guys and one girl so the beer/cooler ratio was slightly off but it was all good. From time to time throughout the trip the car would break out in a “Let’s Go Blue Jays!” chant and they seemed to get louder and more frequent the closer we got to the Rogers Centre. We were yellin’ it out the windows to people on the street who appeared to be Jays fans or have ears.
By the time we got there everyone was already nicely liquored. I left my beer in the car almost certain it would be confiscated at the door but I did put one in my backpack so i’d have it if I got through and could buy a beer, then when that was gone pour mine in to the cup but if it was taken I was only out one beer. Melissa asked if she could put her drink in there too which I said okay but that I would not put up a fight for it if they tried to take it when searching backpacks.
So we stumbled up to our gate still yelling and mingling with the other people who were nice enough to tollerate us and ignoring the nasty looks that the family crowds were giving us. When I got in I was directed to a table where they’d search my bag. I was asked to open it. Now I always take the same backpack to these things because this one has 2 large pockets and they usually only search the “main” one so I can keep shit I’m sneaking in in the other one and 9 out of 10 times it works. So he asks me to open my bag and, in a drunken haze, I begin to open the win the the beer and booze in it. I stop, look at him, and say “oh sorry. wrong pocket.”. close it, open the other one where he sees my sweater and camera and the stuff it’s okay to take. he knods and says go ahead. What an idiot. Still drunk I walk probably only 4 feet from the table and yell to my friends “I got it in!” but I was not called back.
Well I gotta get some work done. but the best parts of the story are still to come. There are fist fights and strip clubs ahead so check back later.
