My friend Manh visited last weekend. I picked him up at the train station Friday evening, and patiently endured his claims of racial profiling, stemming from his experience with four burly customs agents who apparently singled him out for special attention.
Manh came down mainly for the Saturday game between the Mariners and the Chicago Cubs. It was only the second baseball game I’ve ever attended, and I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying the whole experience. This had nothing to do with the sport itself (I barely understand baseball, let alone follow it), it had more to do with the entertainment value provided by the people around us. It started when Manh and I were bantering about how whipped Gary was for not coming down from Vancouver, due to girlfriend issues. At some point, the couple in front of us left their seats, and Manh was quick to take credit for driving them away with borderline offensive commentary. They did come back after an inning though, and ignored us until I made some lame pun about Fred McGriff taking a bite out of the Mariners. At this point the lady in front started laughing, turned around, and exclaimed “That’s exactly what I was trying to remember about him, that his name sounds like that crime dog!”.
Now apparently warmed up to us, she kept up a dialogue with us for the rest of the game, talking about everything from peanut vendors (Her: “He obviously didn’t attend basic orientation on how to sell peanuts. He’s not putting any effort into his cries! I hope you don’t buy any from him.”) to strip bars (Her: “Know where we could catch the Lennox-Tyson match?” Manh: “Well, I hear they play that sort of thing at exotic entertainment bars.. not that I would know.” Her: “Hey! If you’re into that of thing, Portland has the most strip bars in the Northwest United States. We’re from Portland, we would know.”) to beavers. (As always, I’m in awe at the sort of things that Manh can say in front of total strangers and get away with.)
With another couple in front of us overhearing some talk about the Metallica concert (Wife: “Wasn’t that the greatest concert ever?” Me: “Uh.. totally.”), the frat boys behind us yelling “FRED-DY” in loud piercing tones, a five year old girl a couple of rows away screaming “You can do it!” in
