Elle Severe Presents

Camden Yards – The Story of the Stairs

In Life, Musings, One Beer In, Random, Sports on July 31, 2012 by Elle Severe

Once at (in?) the Inner Harbor we did exactly as planned minus the sightseeing and the dinner.  Around game time we walked over to the stadium and immediately re-upped on our beers since we were starting to see clearly and that was unacceptable.  Camden Yards was gorgeous, one of the best ballparks I’ve ever been in.  Food everywhere, bars aplenty! AND they serve beer IN THE STANDS!!! (come on Mayor Menino, get on board, it’s 2012)  So we drink and drink and drink and  at some point I forget that we’re at a baseball game.  But then I’m reminded because I look around and I’m in a stadium….but I know it’s not Fenway because the stadium is nearly empty.  I point this out and we make the executive decision to move up as close as possible.  At some point we get close enough that I’m staring at Tek’s backside and thinking of how it will look when I spank it because he’s been naughty.  With that in mind I beg my husband to take the camera and go snap pics of Tek’s ass.  My husband is a very kind person and gamely snapped me a pic as is evidenced by the 1 sad, lone photo I have of Jason Varitek’s ass, labeled, Baltimore, September 2006.

In the 7th inning we hear “Last Call” so obviously all four of us buy 2 beers.  Two seconds later we hear “Last Call!” again, so obviously all four of us buy 2 more beers….3 minutes later we hear “Last Call!” AGAIN,  so OBVIOUSLY we all bought 2 more beers…you can see where this is going; by the end of “last call”, we had 8 beers each.  We then set up our 32 beers nicely and neatly under our seats to grab with ease.  Right about that time Claire, who NEVER does anything she’s not supposed to do, says “so are you sharing your candies or what?”, well I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this utterly floored me.

Let me be clear, Claire is a goody-two shoes.  Like an extreme goody-two shoes.  Like a Church-going, innocent, sweet human being.  She never, ever does anything she’s not supposed to do and that includes taking any sort of drugs even if/when they are prescription.  She’s that freak that will have all four wisdom teeth yanked and take like 3 Vicodin over the course of two weeks and leave a bottle of  it just sitting there begging to be stolen by me.  So when she said “so are you sharing your candies or what?”,  I couldn’t get them out of my pocket and into her mouth quick enough.  I mean, I’m not a sharer by nature and I definitely don’t share my pills; my pills are my babies, they are to be loved and cuddled and hugged and protected and held onto AT ALL COSTS…plus I had already called ‘no sharesies’ on them…BUT, this was a monumental moment in our friendship.  In the 20 plus years we’ve been friends she had never asked me for any drugs, so I was thrilled and thought, “Holy crap, we are not Kansas anymore! This night is about to be an epic shitshow” and I couldn’t wait.  Riding high on her willingness to indulge, I even got crazy generous and offered one to Sully who wimped  out and only took a half of one (turned out to be a blessing in disguise as later he vomited on himself in a bar, so not cool, even worse? He tried to blame it on the candy!).

Toward the end of the game I decided to go the bathroom.  I was wearing my Harvard Medical School sweatshirt and as I came out of the bathroom I lit up a cigarette and heard, “hey do you go to Harvard Medical School?”.  With my brightest smile possible and a nice drag of my smoke, I replied to the nice gentleman, “Yesh, yesh I doooo, I’m a third year and my shpecaillty is pediatric trauma shurgry, can’t wait to finish and shtart makin’ the big bux!” then I staggered off and realized that if I was still in medical school I wouldn’t have a specialty yet, der.  Oh well.   As I blindly wove my way through the throngs of people, I somehow managed to bang right into my drunken comrades.

At that point, my husband  decided he needed a rest and promptly sat his butt on some concrete stairs…people were leaving left and right, but because it’s not crowded cause Camden is, well, no Fenway, that’s for sure, sitting on steps there is really no problem.  As we are relaxing on the concrete steps, we hear some loud, drunken nonsense up above and sensing kinship, we look up to see several drunken frat boys straddling the railing and within moments they were sliding down and really, really enjoying themselves.  At that moment I looked at Claire and sensing that something stupid was about to happen I gave her the “don’t do it” eyes; she shakes me off like Schilling did to Tek in the 7th inning and in that moment I know that not only was this stupid thing coming, but coming fast…

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One Response to “Camden Yards – The Story of the Stairs”

  1. Jen says:

    Loved this! Spilled my coffee twice while reading. You are very funny.

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