31 August 2005
Bags Escorts Lady Owls to Sox Game
Never the shrinking violet, Bags totally immersed himself in an unintentional ladies night, escorting Auntie, LP and I to a barn-burner of a Sox game. The evening started out ripe with potential disaster. Humid air hung over Fenway like a damp towel, threatening severe thunderstorms. Some questionable GI tract issues flared up after rapid consumption of buffalo wings and garden burgs at Boston Billiards. The Sox were down 5-0 in the second inning and we had an angry yeller sitting next to us who wouldn't shut up. Worse, we appeared to be sitting in the busiest (and chubbiest) row of the stadium. Patrons continually shuffled their largesse up and down the aisle, their butts inches from our faces. But just when you thought all was lost. The rain held off. Cocktails cleared up the GI issues. Trot Nixon and David Ortiz led the Sox to a dramatic 7-6 victory. A fantastic night all around. Thanks to the Funbags for the tickets and ride home. Maybe you can take us for pedicures next week!
(photo: This is the kind of crap photo that results when an angry yeller takes your picture)
(photo: "We will always go dancing," Bags assures the Owls.)
(photo: "How about a hot dog, Tiger?" LP asks her 12-year-old daughter)
Angry yeller's finger: The exact opposite of a gleeful foam one.