everything i remember about the best opening day ever.

What I don't remember is what year it was. Maybe '99, or somewhere around there.

I also don't know how I managed it, but I got myself to Queens, and my friend Joe's car, and we had to go somewhere (somewhere I've forgotten).

I think it was Westchester. We had to get the tickets, and then we had to make it back to the stadium for the first pitch.

But before we could go in, we had to find Kerri.

First we had to deal with the traffic, going up and coming back. Everybody knows to stay off of 87 on game day, especially opening day. It was before the cell phone revolution, but Joe had a beeper and used it well that day. We crawled up the highway.

We got to Westchester and pulled into a development. Joe ran inside; I waited in the car.

We crawled down the highway. The electronic reminder that someone was ready to begin the same journey from the other direction punctuated the conversation. We had no way to call back without sacrificing valuable road time.

I remember it being hot, although today is cold. There was some sun, and maybe some wind.

We finally got within walking distance of the stadium and Joe decided to leave the car in one of those places where you shouldn't leave your car. One of those places where, as you walk toward the street, some undesirables will offer to watch your car for twenty bucks.

Joe laughed them off.

We reached the stadium and found a payphone. We called Kerri's office, but she had already left. We had no meeting place, no meeting time. We picked something obvious: the big bat.

We tried the phone again, this time staying within view of the bat, and this time reaching her officemate. I spoke to him idly about our botched plans while Joe went back to stand in the bat's shadow.

Kerri called her office. I don't know why. I stayed on hold while my new friend filled her in on the other line. When he came back, we parted ways amicably. I wished we had a fourth ticket for him.

When Kerri finally appeared at the bat, we quickly marvelled at how we were all able to find each other. We snaked through the crowd to the bleacher seat entrance.

At the beer stand, we watched Yogi Berra throw the first pitch on closed-circuit. I think it was Yogi, and that we discussed having missed the Joe DiMaggio years.

We climbed the bleacher steps and found three seats together, behind two girls who looked like they should have been at school that day.

There were two fights in the bleachers that day. The girls got some frat-looking boys to buy them beers. Joe talked about first meeting Solmi, and how he thought he might ask her out. I stepped in mustard. Kerri talked about layoffs, about leaving jobs behind.

Somehow, we made it out of the stadium. The car was still there.

Posted at 3:05 PM in category love, and the kittens it killed.
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