My work takes me to various places. These trips are often fleeting and sometimes against my will. Take Houston, Texas for example.
I've always been sort of reluctant each time I've been sent to this sprawling, characterless city; the home of chain restaurants and hordes of oil industry boogymen. Still, I like to try to squeeze at least a few hours of interesting experiences out of these brief visits and, this time, the Astros were hosting the Cubs.
After finishing a work event, I caught a cab across town to Minute Maid Park and made it in time for the third inning. I present to you a few fractured experiences/thoughts--mostly in the order in which they occurred--from my evening with the 'stros:
On the way to my seat--a Shiner Bock in one hand and a chopped beef sandwich in the other--I had to dodge a pair of tea-baggers with matching "get off our backs" t-shirts (I think they were even worn over buttoned-down collared shirts) and a dragonfly. I'm unsure of the political views of the dragonfly, as it wasn't wearing a t-shirt and it flew by too fast for me to notice if it had any bumper-stickers.
There's this weird burm-thing in centerfield that I couldn't quite figure out. Is it just creative landscaping or is there a purpose behind it? Do outfielders frequently run up the burm and leap over the wall to catch potential homeruns? After some post game research, I discovered it is called "Tal's Hill" and apparently has no purpose.
I wonder if Bagwell hit all of those homeruns in the pre-burm era.
"Mild" beat "Hot" in the Taco Bell Saucy Sprint®. I was disappointed in Hot's performance, though I did enjoy watching two people dressed as giant taco sauce packets race around the field.
The PA announcer sounded exactly like Will Arnett (as Gob from Arrested Development). Really, for a little while I thought he might be guest announcing.
The cheap seats were really cheap seats: $6 (you should be ashamed of yourself, Fenway). While that was nice, I was disturbed by the rigid class structure of the ball park. I sat up top with the Latino and African-American families, while the white frat boys and, presumably, tea-baggers sat down behind the dugouts and home plate. At least at Fenway, no one can afford a ticket...except for Ben Affleck.
At one point during the middle innings, the Jumbotron flashed images of people in the crowd playing air bongos, with cartoon image of bongos superimposed on the screen. Sometimes it looked as though the people were actually playing the bongos, though most of the time they were just awkwardly flailing about, occasionally looking up and into the distance to see if they were on the screen.
The leftfielder for the Astros was named Jason Bourgeois. I wonder how many intellectual baseball conversations among fans include comments like: "We don't have a chance at the penant this year--our outfield is so bourgeois."
During the 7th inning stretch, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" was immediately followed, with slightly more enthusiasm, by, "Deep In the Heart of Texas."
The day after the game, in a SuperShuttle on the way to the airport, we passed a car with a large "Don't Tread on Me" flag flapping in the wind, several purveyors of "pit trucks" and smokers, and La Luz del Mundo--a huge, and hugely out-of-place looking church by the highway. Turns out it may be a scary place as well.
At IAH, I said farewell to a jaunty George HW Bush in bronze. I wonder who he was rooting for in the Taco Bell Saucy Sprint®.
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