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...but no, Tiffany Pollard does not figure at all into this post. Ambience is provided by Cascada, whose most recent album is titled "Perfect Day." Friday was damned close.
I awoke to my alarm at 10 am, and sat down to my computer to discover an IM from RB. He related that he and his ex-girlfriend had tickets to the night's Mets game at Shea Stadium; apparently, he'd read my entry from Thursday night, and was compelled to inform me. That, along with certain Facebook status updates from the previous night, sealed it up - I was heading to New York City for the first time since December 2006. I quickly formulated my game plan - drive to the vicinity of Shea, buy my ticket, take the subway into downtown Manhattan, consume film, subway back out to Queens (with a dinner stop), watch the game, and drive home. Driving into and out of NYC meant that I wouldn't be drinking; thankfully, a live sporting event is something I don't need any alcohol at all to enjoy. The drive in got nasty in the Bronx, but my pimp-ass navigational skill kept me moving and got me to Flushing in good time. Just one problem - the game day box office wasn't open at 2 pm. I waited for about half an hour, and then decided I'd purchase admission later. Thus I boarded the John Rocker Memorial Line - the "7" train; along with the "4", it got me to SoHo a bit later than I'd have liked. After viewing "American Teen," I took a combination of several lines to Penn Station. Why Penn, you ask? Because it was the closest stop to the one White Castle in Midtown. After that dinner, I got back on the subway and got myself back to Shea, counting myself fortunate to catch an express "7" train.
Upon reaching the ticket window, I still had no idea where RB would be seated, so I took the first available seat offered to me - and it was way up the third-base line. The location wasn't bad, and once I was seated, I commenced calling and texting RB to discern his location. He finally got back to me at 7:20 - the second inning. He was on the complete opposite side of the stadium from me, and I resolved to meet up with him later. The game started slow, but the Mets gradually got rolling. One in the third, two in the fourth, and three in the fifth gave the Amazin's a comfortable cushion, and it was more than enough for Mike Pelfrey, who only yielded one run over seven innings. The home run apple made two appearances - Carlos Delgado brought it up in the fifth, and Argenis Reyes' solo shot (above) gave the Mets their last run in the seventh. That jack was extra special, as it was the first career homer for the young second baseman. Albert Pujols was booed at each appearance; his performance, 0-for-5 with three strikeouts, was most welcome. Also booed was Cardinals catcher Yadier "Pennant Stealer" Molina. Despite a scare in the top of the ninth, New York won 7-2. Another highlight was seeing WFAN's Steve Somers update the countdown of games remaining at Shea. Not so cool was the fact that nearly all public address announcements were made only in Spanish, as it was "Merengue Night" at Shea.
Also not cool was NOT seeing RB! In the middle of the eighth, I crossed Shea's upper deck to find him and catch up. I resumed calling and texting him, but to no avail, nor could I find him in the stands. I hung out for about ten minutes after the game, but he wasn't there. My guess is that he left once the Mets had the game safely in hand, not wanting to fall victim to the traffic that had plagued his transit into the city. I assured him, via voicemail, that we'd discuss it when I return to my ancestral home next week. Once that was resolved, there was little for me to do but roll the Minivan o' War back up here to New London. I must make quick mention of the fact that the eye candy shop was in full effect on Friday. In every direction I looked, beautiful girls, prettily dressed. All in all, a great trip. I can't call it perfect because I didn't see RB, I didn't meet Razzy, and I didn't get laid - but still, it was a great way to start off leave.