I have the best husband ever. I can call him at 4:30 and say, "Hey- we're footloose and fancy free tonight...want to go to a Sox game?" And he says, "Sure!" So I start scrounging for last minute tickets in the usual places. I come up with nice-sounding pavilion seats on Craigslist, but they're a little pricey. I offer him $100 for the pair, figuring I have nothing to lose. Tony from East Boston comes back with $150. I say no thanks. We figure we'll get them on the street or watch the game at a bar near the stadium. And then Tony emails me back when we're a half hour away and asks if we can meet him in East Boston. I give him Big Al's number. They chat, he emails us the tickets and says send me a check next week. The security guy scans the tickets on Al's phone and we have great seats on a perfect night in Boston. And they beat the Yankees! Thanks,Tony!
(The one negative part was when an apparently drunken Sox fan threw a ball from left field at the Yankee pitcher, coming amazingly close to hitting him. He had his moment of glory/infamy, high-fiving the crowd as he was escorted out to a chorus of cheers and boos. Idiot.)
My monster dog was as big as the baseball diamond.
A poor, pathetic Yankee fan.
Salty, our hero!
Heading home at midnight on the T.
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