-
Okay, so we had taken a cab and a train to get to Walpole, and hitched a ride from there to the stadium. Things were looking alright. We were at the right place a good hour and a half before the start of the game, so we had some time to look around, but some overpriced brats, and find our seats. Since there was nothing really for us to do outside of the security gates, we decided to head on in.
Anton had with him a smallish messenger bag. It was only about half the size of a backpack, so we didn’t think we’d have any problems getting it through security. Oh, but I was on Problem’s bad side that day. I got through security just fine, but they held up Anton because of his bag.
Anton: Look, it’s really small. Search it if you like; I promise I have nothing but books and an mp3 player in there.
Guard #1: Sorry, but we can’t allow bookbags in. It’s policy.
Me: Ok, well, what are we supposed to do with it?
Guard #2: Go put it in your car.
Me: We don’t have a car. We took a train and had to hitch to get here.
Guard #1: Damn.
Me: Yeah, tell me about it. Do you have storage lockers or anything?
Guard #2: No, sorry.
Anton: Where can we put the bag then?
Guard #1: Well, if you cross the parking lot and go across the road…you see those woods there?
Me: Yeah…
Guard #1: Go there and put it behind a tree.
Anton: Is that the only option?
Guard #2: Pretty much.
Me: Damn.
So off we went, tromping across a good quarter mile of parking lot, crossing the fairly major road, walking through yet another, smaller parking lot, and into the woods. Mind you, these woods were right there behind the second parking lot, and there were a few people tailgating there. I don’t want to know what they were thinking when they saw Anton and me walk about twenty feet into the trees with a bag and emerge a minute later without any bag.
So anyway, once we had stashed the bag and hiked all the way back to the stadium, it was only about half an hour before the game was to start. The security guards were very nice to us as we went through the line a second time, and we got into the actual stadium without any more problems. We got some food, found our seats, and then watched the Crew beat the crap out of the Revolution (though I was sad to see them not get the shut-out).
Once the game was over, we started to think about how the hell we were supposed to get back to the train station. I had been hoping that we’d be seated next to some Crew fans, and I could make nice with them and hopefully catch a ride that way. Sadly, there were only about five Crew fans at the game, and we were all scattered about in different sections (but every time the Crew scored, we would stand up and cheer, which meant that there was about one person in every other section standing for each Crew goal). Anton had the brains to call Information during halftime (unbeknownst to me) and get the number of a local cab company. We gave them a call as we were hiking across the parking lots and into the woods to retrieve Anton’s bag, and the woman on the other end was very nice and gave us directions to where the cab was to meet us.
By directions, I mean the woman told us to go to the other side of the stadium and wait at the Hercules Plaza by the Papa Gino’s. Sounded simple enough, “sounded” being the key word. By the time we had rescued Anton’s bag, which thankfully had not been stolen or full of bugs or something, it had been nearly fifteen minutes since we called for the cab. Suffice to say, I was getting anxious and I just wanted to find the cab and catch our train as soon as possible. We walked around to the other side of the stadium, keeping our eyes peeled for a Papa Gino’s or something that said Hercules Plaza on it. We walked and walked and walked and eventually went as far around the stadium as we could. Still no Papa Gino’s or Hercules Plaza in sight.
We found a security guard and told her our plight. Sadly, she had no clue where either of our two landmarks were located, but she did point out someone else to ask. So we wandered on over to an official looking guy with a little headset on and asked him for directions. He told us, much to our dismay, that the Hercules Plaza (and Papa Gino’s) was not located at the stadium. In fact, it was a good half mile away, once we got to the highway.
That being said, Anton and I just looked at each other and sighed. We set off across the vast parking lot (I’d say it was nearly a quarter mile long) and hiked along the highway for what seemed like forever. At this point, it had been nearly half an hour since we first called for the cab company, and so I was now not only nervous about not finding the Papa Gino’s, I was worried that the cab might have given up on us and left.
Thankfully, we found the right place and our cab was still there. The cabbie charged us an obscene $20 for a five mile ride, but hey, by this point it was getting dark and we really had no other choice. We got to the train station in one piece and eventually got back to civilization. A quick stop in Chinatown for some Vietnamese and a short T ride later, our odyssey came to an end. All in all, it was a good day; a hectic day, but a good day.
©2003By M.E. It's ok to look, but just don't touch. Or steal for that matter.
