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The Redline train was our choice of transportation from downtown to Guaranteed Rate Field for a game with the White Sox and Cleveland Guardians. The train station was only a block from McDonalds, and we descended into the depths of the “L”, which is a shortened version of “elevated”.
In Chicago “elevated” shortened to “L” is the name used for the entire rail system of elevated railways, subways, and tracks on the ground. It is easier to use one term than to try to describe the different types of transportation. If only buying a ticket was as easy.
The two of us walked up to the ticket kiosk and perused the two rows of vertical buttons marked with letters.
We read the descriptions and chose the one we thought was best for us, a one-way ticket. We pressed the appropriate button and like Mick Jagger we received no satisfaction. A second attempt was also proving fruitless when a voice came floating across the walkway, “Press “E” and “G”. The exact letters she yelled have been lost over time so this might not be the exact quote. Glancing over my shoulder I saw a lady inside a cage across the walkway looking at us and figured that was the source of the voice.
The voice asked where we were going to which we replied, “The ballgame.”
“You will need a weekend pass.” Replied the voice. Jeff and I had a little discussion about not needing the weekend pass for a one-way trip to the ballpark. But the voice was one of authority, so we asked the machine for a weekend pass. We were making progress. The credit card was inserted, and I began typing in the zip code, but the machine was not taking the information. Actually, the machine just stood there without even giving us a hint as to what the difficulty was.
Jeff and I figured that the machine was malfunctioning, so we pressed the ‘cancel’ button which was the easiest one to find. Stepping to our left we started the process all over on a different machine. As I was beginning the process the voice materialized as a whole human being standing between us and began inputting the correct information for us. Instead of seeing two creepy old men she saw two confused old men and came to our aid. It turns out I was inputting the zip code numbers too fast for the machine which just stopped trying to keep up with my button pressing. Our rescuing angel even took some time to share a little conversation with us and give us directions to the proper track to catch the proper train. I think she just didn’t want us hanging around in her area of responsibility long enough to be trouble. Fortunately, the “L” employee came to our aid, or we might have been arrested for loitering. Who would have thought buying a train ticket would be such an adventure.
The train arrived almost as soon as we landed on the platform, and we were on our way to the ballpark. Jeff was wondering out loud if we would be able to see the stadium from the station. I was facing the front of the train as he spoke, and we came out of a tunnel. I assured him we would be able to see the stadium because I was looking at the stadium blocking out the view.
We weren’t in Detroit anymore.
The rain clouds were gathering as we found our way to the ticket window and purchased our passes to the game.
Standing in front of the stadium a guy in Loyola colors asked if we could take his picture and he would take ours.
Jeff handed the guy his phone and I was wondering if we would get it back. Turns out Jeff was having the same thought. It didn’t help our unease when the guy exclaimed, “This is a nice camera.” Jeff was wondering if he could catch the guy if he started running, but the camera was handed back with no chase necessary.
We picked the restaurant across the street from the stadium to shelter from the rain and grab some supper. The server shared with us that there was an entrance to the stadium out the back door of the restaurant if we wanted to miss the crush of people using other entrances. After the meal I followed Jeff, who thought we had to go upstairs to the exit for the entrance to the stadium. There was no exit on the second floor of the restaurant so we returned to the first floor and the exit to the entrance we had passed on the way to the second floor.
It’s a good thing we didn’t have to go too far, or we might still be wandering around the parking lot.
We joined some other fans ‘squatting’ in dry seats to watch the rainfall during the hour delay.
Before finding our seats for the game we explored the stadium and bought some ice cream in little White Sox helmets.
Jeff wondered why they didn’t have other team helmets for the ice cream. I figure we would not be able to afford the treat if one team was using another team’s logo at the ice cream stand.
We had good seats in a sparsely filled section down the right field line. Our row was mostly empty as was the row in front of us. Being vertically challenged, Jeff was very appreciative of the lack of obstruction in the row in front of him. About the fourth inning Jeff’s view was abruptly obstructed when the tallest girl we have ever seen
(and I’ve seen some tall women)
slipped into the row in front of us and sat right in front of Jeff. This girl was so tall she had to sit sideways because her thighs wouldn’t fit into the space between her seat and the next one. Jeff and I looked at each other and moved down a few seats. We really wondered what her story was but didn’t want to appear to be creepy old men by asking. Anyway, she hung out for a few innings before leaving.
Another girl caught our attention as well. Everyone received a Dylan Cease ‘stache’ upon entering the stadium because he was pitching, and he sports a moustache.
One very pregnant woman, I think the plan was to have the baby at the stadium, came walking up the steps with the moustache attached to her very large bump. People can be very funny.
About the time the tall girl left we decided to move down a few rows to some seats closer to the field. The movement put us right in the middle of some unusual fan activity. The seats we chose were at the end of the row across the aisle from a gal we had briefly noticed in the seventh inning when the beer guy refused to sell her another beer. The gal was a Cleveland fan. This was obvious because she was wearing red knee socks with the old Chief Joseph logo emblazoned on the calf. Her shorts were white topped by a red Cleveland shirt covered by an unbuttoned Guardian jersey. A red Guardian baseball cap sat on her head. You couldn’t miss her in the mostly White Sox crowd.
At the end of the ninth we had a tie ballgame and the gal across the aisle stood up, raised her arms like a “Y” in “YMCA” only a little wider and yelled to the entire stadium. “I have to p*ss. I have magic p*ss and we will win”.
I figured that was the last we’d see of her because she wouldn’t find her way back. While she was gone the Guardians scored three times in the top of the tenth. Between innings “The Magic P*ss” girl returned to stand in the same spot in the same pose to announce, “We’re ahead. I do have magic p*ss”. She settled into her seat quietly as the Sox proceeded to tie the score in the bottom of the tenth. We were watching a very exciting game.
The eleventh inning started with the Guardians scoring two more runs and setting off “The Magic P*ss girl” once again. Now she saw other Cleveland fans and began running around the stadium announcing her magical gift. Some people can be drunk.
We knew we weren’t in Philadelphia because no fight broke out around this girl.
The Chicago fans looked in her direction and returned to the game. I don’t think I heard anyone even yell at her to shut up. One of the guys in front of us was doing some math to figure out if the Sox had a mathematical opportunity of taking first from the Guardians. He surmised if they won all thirteen games left, they might make it. One of his friends replied, “So, you’re saying there’s a chance!”
I decided I liked the Chicago White Sox fans.
To be continued next time.