According to the internet, there are 9 so-called “alignments.” I’m a “good-neutral,” who often finds himself stuck in a “Chaotic-neutral” world. Tonight was one of those times: far from being my best night, yet not quite bad enough to be the worst night of my life either – chaotic…but neutral.
I took a shower and left the apartment around 4:45, I arrived at the light rail just after 5pm. I tried buying a ticket, but the machine was having trouble reading my Smartcard. I cancelled the transaction, tried again and suddenly it worked – same machine, same card, different result. I think I’ve just disproved that line about the “definition of insanity.”
I cross the tracks to the southbound platform just as a northbound train was approaching the station. Less then a minute later, another northbound train arrived. A few seconds after the third northbound left, I finally heard the southbound train pull around the corner.
I arrived at the Inner Harbor at 5:27pm. I had just over an hour and a half until game time – too much for fast food, but barely enough for sit down meal. I decided to go with the sit down meal anyway, and my mental calculations were correct – I left the restaurant with only ten minutes to get to the arena before the game started.
I got to the ticket counter at exactly 7pm, by the time I got past security the pre-game introductions had already started. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem, but the Blast players are introduced in the dark through a lighted logo with flares shooting out of the “B” and the “T.” This means I’m trying to find my seat in the dark. Fortunately, it was in the first row and on the end (yes, this will be important later) so it wasn’t too difficult to find after the “event staff” shone his pen light along the row. When the lights came on, I found out I was the only person sitting in the section and the one across the aisle from me was completely vacant.
The game started out with both teams scoring a goal in the first minute of play. Obviously, the diminished weekday crowd went nuts for the home goal, and it was followed by several others over the course of the quarter. After each goal, the cheerleaders would throw Snickers Mini™ bars into the audience, they handed me after the third goal (no sense throwing it since I was the only person in the section).
I left my seat to look for something to eat, but the majority of their concession stands were closed due to the “diminished crowd.” But I was assured that the ones that were open had exactly the same “if not better” menus than the ones that were closed.
The only problem with that statement is it isn’t remotely true. I was looking for nachos and the one stand that was open didn’t sell them. I finally just ended up buying just a bottled soda…for $4.25. I literally shell shocked by the price:
“O-o-one soda costs f-f-four s-s-s-seventy-five.? …ONE soda…?”
“Four TWENTY-five,” she corrected.
“I feel b-better now…no, actually I don’t,” I sighed.
“No, I mean you owe me $4.25 for the soda,” she said removing the lid (yes, this is also important).
I return to my seat, the guy with the “spirit drum” was standing directly in front of it. The second I sit down, the Blast score their 9th goal of the night, and the spirit guy sighs, reluctantly pulls out his spirit stick and half-heartedly shakes it before putting it back in his pocket. He then pulls out his Blast towel and twirled it around his head once before putting it back in his pocket. Then just as a group of kids passes by, he takes the rubber mallet out of his pocket and…
I jump in my seat spilling my soda all over me. The kids seeing this surround my seat point and laugh at me shouting taunts like: “dumbass,” “Pant-shitter,” “you’re a fucking pussy!”
I felt like I was back in 3rd grade, except I knew if I said anything to them I’d have 6 sets of parents on my ass like *snaps finger* for being the “monster” who dared to hurt an 8-yr old’s feelings.
As they leave, I try to collect myself and one of the cheerleaders came by with the free Snickers Mimi™ bar to celebrate the goal. It wasn’t much, but she was pretty and smiled at me in a nominally friendly way.
When I left about midway through the 4th quarter, the score was 22-2, and as I was waiting for the light rail to arrive I could hear the announcer shouting about another goal for the Blast as the final score for the night to 24-4.