Streets of Philadelphia

Thirty-eight dollars. The ticket I bought a month ago to watch my Atlanta Braves finish their season in Philadelphia seemed worth it at the time, especially considering the Braves were playing great baseball and it appeared the game would still be meaningful with the playoffs fast approaching. A dreadful month of September later, and nothing was on the line yesterday. Suddenly $38 looked like a waste. After all, the money was already spent, so why even bother making the 90-mile trek to Philly?

Good thing I changed my mind yesterday morning and decided to drive up. The game itself was my third trip to see the Braves in the past three weeks, in three different cities – I had already been to Washington and Atlanta (see my previous post). I’m a dick, I’m addicted to them. I can’t pretend I don’t care. Channeling my inner teenager there. What up, Simple Plan?

Good seat, right?

Baseball

The game itself was nothing to note about, other than to say it was played in a tidy 2 hours, 18 minutes and ended 2-1 with Craig Kimbrel saving it in style for the Braves by striking out the side in the 9^th inning. More games should follow that exact script. I was joined in the City of Brotherly Love on a stunningly gorgeous day by 38,081 of my best friends. My ticket was somewhere near the sun on the left field side, but the advantage of going to games by myself is it’s always easy to find another seat wherever I want. And by wherever I want, I always mean on the third base line, on an aisle.

There were two kids in front of me – middle school aged, I’d say – that I was disgustingly put off by the whole game. I like to think I’m a very observant, perceptive person, but these two really perplexed me. The boy was an animal – first it was peanuts, then it was pizza, then it was a cookie. None of which were consumed with a closed mouth. Believe me when I tell you this young whippersnapper didn't need any of the above, much less all three in two hours. The girl was potentially his sister, and I say that because they kept referencing “mom and dad”, and glancing over to adults in another section. But then, they had their arms around each other and were holding hands at times. When she ate her orange frozen lemonade and regurgitated it back on the spoon, she fed him what was left. It was weird. Maybe they were brother and sister, or cousins, but they seemed too old to be so touchy. I know West Virginia is close to Pennsylvania, but really.

MotownPhilly

Temple

After getting out of my $16 parking spot at Citizens Bank Park – the Phillies’, Eagles, and 76ers’ and Flyers’ venues are literally all in the same massive parking lot off I-95 in Philly – I headed for downtown. This fall I've had a major realization in my life that I want to teach, art history specifically, and to do that at the level at which I want to do it, I need a PhD on top of the Master’s degree I have now. I’ve made a significant commitment to researching schools and narrowed it down to four – Delaware (lukewarm about that one. A school whose nickname is Blue Hens, I can’t be too sure about), Penn State, Pittsburgh, and Temple. Temple is in northwest Philly, about seven miles from Citizens Bank, so it was an easy drive to get there and wander around campus.

The campus is wonderful. It’s leafy, green, and very quiet. You wouldn't know you’re in a major city (and more specifically, on a campus in the middle of some very shady neighborhoods just a couple streets away) when walking around. I was able to find the Tyler School of Art building, in which my program would be located, and charmed the security guard to let me have a look around even though I don’t have the requisite Temple ID and it was a Sunday so pretty much everything was locked. By charmed, I mean, she asked to see my driver’s license and I had to fill out a sign-in sheet. It was great to see where I could end up spending the next 6-8 years – that PhD is no joke – and was valuable information for me as I go further in the application process. There are almost 10,000 postgrad students at Temple and nearly 30,000 undergrads, and

Wikipedia tells me that the main campus occupies 105 acres and an estimated 12,000 students live on or near it. With that said, the campus is eminently walkable and I had no problems navigating it.

Sorority girls wearing Bid Day 2014 shirts were out in full force, and I made careful observations. Alpha Phi, I’m not sure about you all. American University Field Hockey team, I see you ladies. Tough loss yesterday. I saw lots of Temple football players walking around as well after their 36-10 drubbing of UCONN on Saturday. Well played in Hartford, fellas. I got a delicious blondie for $2 at a coffee shop on Liacouras Walk. For a Sunday afternoon, the campus seemed pretty busy, and that’s what I was hoping to see. Having experienced life at a small school already in undergrad, while visiting some of my closest friends at major state universities and with my favorite lovely Meatball at one now as well, I've really come to value that atmosphere and it’s what I’m seeking in the schools to which I’m applying.

An hour and a half later, I was back in Baltimore. Gina comes to visit this weekend and the plan is to show her my hometown of Fredericksburg. And meet mom and dad. So, there’s that.

More soon.

ColAtl

Another question?? How is that possible?! The staff meeting dragged on and on Thursday afternoon, with people asking ridiculously mind-numbing questions one after another when I all I wanted to do was get my show on the road. I had over 500 miles to drive, which was tough enough, but navigating the 100-mile stretch from Baltimore to Fredericksburg would be particularly challenging. Time it wrong, and I could be delayed for hours. Time it right, and I could enjoy the meatball that is my lovely girlfriend jumping into my arms at a reasonable hour.

Of course, my worst fears were realized. After spending an excruciatingly frustrating 3 hours getting from my office to my hometown, where traffic would lighten, I was in the clear, finally able to channel my inner Jeff Gordon on the way to South Carolina. The rest of the drive was as calm and serene as a Southern breeze, minus the one middle-aged guy ahead of me in line getting an XL Stuffed Burrito and six (!!) tacos at the Taco Bell in Florence. I made it to Gina’s house before 1 AM, over 9 hours after I’d set off, and a quick kiss or seven later, we hit the town.

Columbia, Night 1

I’d been to Columbia once before, visiting a friend my senior year of college. It defeated me. I tried to walk into a bathroom at Sonic in a highly-charged and intoxicated state of mind. Little I did realize you can’t actually walk into Sonics, and after being alerted by the cheerful kitchen staff that there was no bathroom available inside, I puked in the grass outside. I always keep it classy.

My first night went swimmingly, as I met the roommates and friends and enjoyed a night out in the Five Points bar district. Bud Light pitchers for $5? Yes, please, and keep ‘em coming. Fun times were had by all, and the weekend was off to a great start.

That continued the next day, which started with brunch at a local restaurant where I had a breakfast burrito that was, ehhh, alright. I consider myself to be a connoisseur of breakfast meats and cheeses wrapped in tortillas, and though it wasn’t awful, it wasn’t the best I ever had, no not the fucking best I ever had. Still, the biggest difference it seems to me between the South and the North is price, so couldn’t complain.

View from in front of the Ellis

Atlanta

A quick pit stop to the mall later and Gina and I were on our way to Atlanta for the night. Anyone who knows me knows how much of a Braves fan I am. I’ve seen them play in Baltimore, Washington, Kansas City, Pittsburgh, and Chicago, but never at Turner Field. That was about to change. Three hours in DJ Gina’s sporty Acura with her at my iPod’s control went by quick, and we checked into our hotel on Peachtree Street right downtown. Shoutout to the Ellis Hotel for a king bed, huge shower, free lemonade, and powerful ice dispenser. We stopped for a dinner of champions – her at Jimmy Johns, me at Subway – before navigating the streets and being helped by a kindly homeless man who then solicited me on the way to the shuttle that would take us to the stadium.

We got to Turner Field an hour early – yes, I’m THAT guy. Gina deserves a crown for the sports addiction she has to put up with. I was convinced very unwillingly to take a picture with a depiction of Chipper Jones outside the Braves Hall of Fame; Chipper is my all-time favorite athlete and the only reason I wore #11 in my sporting life is because #10 was taken by the kid in front of me in line when we picked our jerseys for the U9 Hotspurs travel soccer team. Damn you, Bret Hudson. We got to our seats on the 1^st base line – and let me take a moment to pat myself on the back for trawling through Stubhub until I got exactly what I wanted – and they were great. Except for the little kid who continuously kicked the back of Gina and I’s chair as if it was an airplane. Come on, son.

Turner Field looked great. The Braves did not.

The game itself was nothing to write home about as the Braves continued their truly magnificent losing streak in fine fashion, losing 5-0. The saving grace was it was Fireworks night afterward, and that makes everything better. Gina was on a quest to get on the scoreboard video screen, doing her best to get the attention of a cameraman who was always near our section but seemed to prefer the attentions of another clientele base, should we say. Eventually we made it on in the background. Simba Cam was pretty cool, too.

We headed back to our hotel after the game, pretty tired and without the motivation that could have been provided if there were any fun or cool bars around our location. No such luck.

Back to Columbia

The next morning we checked out of the hotel and waited approximately 47 minutes for the valet to get Gina’s car, the whole time just wanting to be inside it so we could eat our breakfast of the gods – Dunkin Donuts. The whole world runs on it, y’know. It was easy enough to get out of the city and after stopping for gas, which I consider to be a fun adventure with Gina as she’s from Jersey and has gas pumped for her there, and getting vital nourishment in the form of Gatorade, Arizona Iced Tea, and three AirHeads, we were back in Columbia for the night ahead.

Beer, blue drank, and football. She's ok, too.

Gina’s lovely roommates Julie and Kristy hadn’t had the most relaxing of nights the night before, and our arrival at their house was greeted with the warm welcome of two girls curled in balls on the couch looking like they wanted to end it all. The magic of youth worked its wonders, though, and after watching Michigan stumble and bumble its way to a pathetic 26-10 loss to Utah, we got ready to head out to Five Points again to watch South Carolina’s primetime matchup with Vanderbilt.

We went to the same bar as Thursday night, with the same pitchers of Bud Light, with the added twist of pitchers of Adios, a blue drank which later proved to be my downfall. Everyone was decked out in their gear, and nowhere have I seen more girls interested in football. After spotting Vanderbilt two touchdowns, you know, just to keep things interesting, USC came back and won handily in Nashville. Good win for the Cocks, and now they have College Gameday in Columbia next Saturday as a reward. By the end of the game, your boy was starting to feel it. Many group selfies and Snapchats and drinks and another bar later, it was time to go home. I don’t remember the cab ride back or many of the other proceedings, other than pasta and a sandwich and pita chips were involved.

Waking up wasn’t the most fun Sunday morning, and so little was done. Unless you count watching Planet Earth on the couch for hours, because if you do, then we accomplished everything God put us on this planet to do. We went to pick up Gina’s car and got Cookout along the way – sidenote, if you’ve never been down South and gotten food from there, stop reading this NOW and go. You’ll thank me after your quesadilla, hush puppies, and milkshake. The prospect of a 500-mile drive home awaited me, and after saying c ya to Gina, I headed back to Maryland.

Columbia, Round 2 is in a little less than a month. After my experience there this weekend, I can’t wait to go back.