We woke at 6am and tried to hail a cab but no cabs would come. Really? No cabs to bring people to work in the morning? That's DC for you. We hopped a bus instead, one that stopped at every corner, as if it were too difficult to cut the number of bus stops in half and make people walk one extra block to get there. By the time we finally arrived at Union Station, we were in something of a panic. But we made the bus that was bound for New York City.
We arrived at Penn, took a train to eternity, dropped our stuff at a hotel in Brooklyn, and took a $30 meterless cab to Citi Field, arriving just after first pitch. I tried to take some photos of the park but realized my memory card was in my laptop back in Washington, so I had to settle for my low quality BlackBerry camera. That's what you see here. It's ok, though, because the ballpark is really nothing special. It has no soul to it, no character, none of that baseball magic that you find in some of baseball's other cathedrals. Still, it was baseball, and more importantly, it was
Reds baseball.
We couldn't figure out how to get into the ballpark so we entered through the MacFadden's Pub that is attached to the stadium. Of course, we had to pick up a couple of beers before we went through the gate, but oops, can't bring beers in that way. Dumb, but oh well. We had to watch the first inning from the bar. I had purchased the cheap seats with no intention of getting any nosebleeds. We wandered around the park and took in the game from various angles. Everything seemed to be going well until the Reds gave it away in the late innings. Bummer. We finally settled into the centerfield seats for the last few innings and caught some rays. Even though the Reds lost, it was a good time. It was baseball.
We went to MacFadden's after the loss, where friendly Mets fans bought us beers, me in my Reds jersey and the graying opera singer in his Nationals shirt. There was a little ribbing, but it was good-natured. A good time.
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More about this later...
