Bohs, O’s, and Sardines


Hello there, friends! Hope you having a satisfactory week! As you know by now, Lauren and I ventured to Camden Yards to watch the O’s vs. Seattle last Friday night. I have talked before about the fear that my husband has regarding my attendance at baseball games.


Let’s be honest. I’m not paying that much attention to the game. Basically, I’m not there for baseball. I’m not saying I don’t like baseball or the Orioles. I do. I’m a huge fan. But I’m there to be with my friends, laugh, drink some beers, eat some sausages and people watch. Husband is convinced I’m going to be hit by stray balls. Apparently, the folks in section 100098 (we had high seats) were, too. Well, you haters, I’m ok. I made it.

Well, Friday’s game was quite the experience. Lauren suggested that I meet her at her job, which is adjacent to a light rail stop. Usually, I enjoy being the master of my own domain and will drive. I will also sell my eggs to pay for the parking. I am pretty sure it has been about twenty years since I have ridden on the train. Here’s why:

Lauren and I purchased our tickets and waited patiently for the train. Moments before the train arrived, we chatted about the fear of falling on the tracks and how it looks safe until you see the random footage of someone accidentally falling onto the tracks right as it comes around the corner. You know, upon reflection, we probably should have been talking about Bronies. I’ll get to that in a second.

The SLOW train rolled to a stop in front of us and the doors opened. Into the gates of hell. Lauren went up a step and I went up right behind her. Except I couldn’t go up the step. Instead, I stepped into a gaggle of people. In no way am I exaggerating. There was no budging. There was no moving. No sir. There was immediate stopping and then the doors closed. I was in the stairway with my back pressed against the door and cheek to Lauren’s back. Which, I will add was a plus since she was chest to crack on a sweaty, smelly man with substantial girth. The good news? We were only five stops away. The bad news? All of it. Good thing I like Lauren. I had to clutch onto her like a pelican to a fish. I’ll share with you my thoughts during the ride:

  • People smell. Pretty bad. SO. MANY. SMELLS. 99% of them were bad.
  • Cigarettes are horrible. I think if hell had a smell, it would probably be cigs. For those of you who smoke and don’t realize the shitstorm of offensiveness that is wafting off of you – heed my advice. You smell like the seventh layer. And, you are making the rest of us smell it. PLEASE STOP.
  • You should not talk about falling on the train tracks prior to getting on a train. That thought will be the only thing you can think about while you are being pressed against the door of moving train. A slow train, but A FREAKING TRAIN. It was not helpful.
  • Some people are really nice. I met a (read: I was smashed against) a lovely couple who wrongly chose to ride the rails downtown to enjoy restaurant week. Let’s hope dinner was a hit. They were delightful and good sports.
  • Lauren gave an impromptu pole dance (read: held on for dear life to the overhead poles while dodging people and not falling over) to a man who slept through the entire thing.
  • We finally were able to eventually score seats but our major concern was about seepage. Good thing Lauren had hand sanitizer. Let’s just say my germophobia was in high gear.
  • Some people DGAF. It was impressive. Playing your music really loudly while you are on your phone? Awesome.
  • Copping a squat in the middle of the floor and reading your Kindle? Get at it, girl.
  • Oh – your bike? Bring it.
  • They do not put signs on the broken doors, which makes people have to run through said gaggle of people to get to the other door so you can get off. This in no way is stressful.
  • Apparently, having your hands down the front of your pants for a long time is now socially acceptable.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. Both rides gave Lauren and me a lot of material to laugh about, shudder about, and have long, telepathic conversations. I lurve Lauren, but next time, I’m springing for parking. MY TREAT, BUDDY.

After excitedly leaving the train, we were hit with the most wonderful signs of all time. Friendship is MAGIC. If you don’t know what BronyCon is, or what I mean by Friendship is Magic, please feel free to browse the interwebs. Be prepared. This will shatter all of your fond My Little Pony memories. TREAD LIGHTLY. Also, don’t ask me why I know so much about this. 

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We headed over to Pickles to have a beer and a sausage. How much money do you think they make over there? $4 a beer? You know most folks have many. Also, we saw kids. Oh. You brought your baby?? TO A BAR??? Yes, I’m totally judging. We had our sausages first. I have to be honest. I am pretty sure they usually taste better after multiple beers. I was confuddled and Lauren had to remind me.

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Off we went to the park to grab our seats. We had loverly seats, thanks to Lauren. The people watching was at an all-time peak. The park was quite crowded (much more so than most games I have attended). We had quite a view.

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As you can see, we were sporting our own flair (shout out to Lauren for even having Orioles earrings. Compliments to G). I am usually the one sporting the minimal amount of flair, so yay me. But let’s be honest, the flair was INTENSE. We saw some pretty amazing things. Orange spray painted heads. LOTS of O’s gear. Can you see the waves of orange in these pics? WOW. There was this family sitting to our right and I swear that they were like the 101 Dalmations. Or the Duggars. Every single time I looked over at them, there was another kid. No joke.

As most of you know, I am a demure, dainty woman who never uses bad language (insert side eye here) but the gents behind us, in addition to tearing into what seemed like a giant burlap sack of peanuts, were dropping f bombs like crazy. The real me didn’t care. The mom in me was screaming, “HEY. DON’T YOU SEE THE GAGGLE OF KIDS SITTING RIGHT HERE???? SHUT YO MOUTHS. But, alas, I didn’t say a thing. Had my kid been with me, I totally would have. Manners, people.

We saw the best guy in the whole world. He provided me with lots of joy throughout the entire time we were there. I know what you are thinking – that I am going to make fun of someone. Nope. Not at all. In fact, I read an article on the interwebs the other day about what happens when you snap an unsuspecting pic of a person and make a meme out of it or etc., and that all you are doing is really making fun of people and recruiting hundreds, if not thousands of people to do the same. Imagine if you were scrolling through Tumblr or the FB and you saw a picture of you – and someone was ripping you to shreds about the way you look, what you were wearing. Ugh. Totally the worst. I’m the first person to make fun of my self (stay tuned for my next post called “My Super Power of Suck,” which is about my fake relationships with people and ruining surprises. It will be a must read.) And for the most part, I’m pretty ok with being teased. But, if the entire internet world was making fun of me? Ugh. It would be like high school all over again. THE WORST. I cannot help my cowlick. Let it go.


Anyhoo….this guy was awesome. Not only was he STOCKED with snacks (my kind of person, but I think you know that already) but he was the most excited person in that whole damn stadium.


Decked out in full flair (please take a note of giant orange foam finger as well), this guy was by himself. I have to say, that for many years, I never did anything by myself. Or at least if I did, I didn’t enjoy it. But, guess what? I love doing things by myself. The movies? Totally the BEST when you are alone. Restaurants? ALL THE FOOD IS MINE. So, I totally am on board with this guy going to the game alone. And did he ever. I am surprised that his face was not all over the jumbotron. Dancing, high fiving everyone who walked by. Eating the heck out of that cotton candy. He knew all the secret baseball claps (HOW DOES EVERYONE BUT ME KNOW THEM?????) It was awesome. And you know what? Aside from being able to spend the evening with Lauren, watching this guy enjoy the eff out of life was the best part. He was adorable. He was happy. He DGAF about anything other than enjoying himself. And, with all of the stress in my life, I sometimes forget to stop and smell the roses. Ferris was right. Life moves pretty fast….So I dedicate this blog post to this guy. Keep on being you, dude. You’re killing it.

We left about the seventh inning – we were both tired from a week of being awesome, so we decided to head back to the train. Where we waited. For a REALLY LONG TIME. And we watched on in horror as two kids PLAYED on the tracks while their grandparents looked on. And people smoked. And we grew weary and tired. And hoped to miss the crowds. Finally, the train came and we were able to score some seats and ride the five stops back to the cars. Apparently, riding the train wore off on us as we if discussed randomly playing with the person’s hair in front of us would be creepy.

Until next time, Baltimore City, STAY KLASSY.



2 thoughts on “Bohs, O’s, and Sardines

  1. I love this, brought back fond memories. I once found a bullet on the train-No kidding–a real whole bullet–riding the train to a game. I picked it up and put it in my pocket and then felt very very wrong about that. It went in the trash but I still wonder if it had a story to tell–one that I’m glad I don’t know.

    • katiehurtt

      I am so intrigued by this, Shawn. I bet there is a fantastic story behind that…I think we could create our very own back story to it. I think it would be so much better than the truth. And…go.

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