On Friday a former intern from where I work sent out an email asking if anyone was interested in going to a Nationals game. “Great seats,” she said.
It’s always a privilege when you get the chance to see the worst team in baseball. They’re 44-80, it’s like going to see a tee ball team trying to play in the pros. So I immediately emailed back, the tickets where mine. And she wasn’t lying about the seats:
There were times when watching the game from these seats confused me. I’m so used to sitting in the rafters that it was kinda weird to look up when there’s a hit instead of always looking down. I went with my buddy Corey, who was also one of my groomsmen, and we had a great time.
But it wouldn’t be a Nats game without a little rain. The guy sitting next to me pulled out his Duke umbrella which covered us both, the first (and probably only) time I ever appreciated a Duke fan. It really started coming down so we went in for some cover to wait out the storm with the other 20 Nats fans who decided to attend.
The rains subsided and the game continued. Instead of going back to our seats I wanted to test out my wide angle lense on a wide shot of the stadium. This meant we had to sneak into to the upper deck, which seemed ridiculous. I really don’t understand why getting up to the worst seats in the house is like getting into the U.S. mint.
So we had to convince a woman who was “securing” the stairwell that I only wanted to take pictures and not steal one of the more than 20,000 seats that were not occupied up there. She would let us pass only if we promised that in the event that we were caught and brutally tortured to reveal how we could have possibly made our way into the upper level, we would tell them that we had never seen her. I spit my hand, she spit hers, and we shook. The view was worth it.
And needless to say, the Nats lost, 7-3.