If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen this tweet yesterday:
Mike sent me a text and then, knowing that I tend to forget my phone exists, came on Google Talk via his phone to be like “Hey! Check your phone!” And what you see above is true. He was given free tickets to the Red Sox game. I was excited. I’d been to two games before, and they’d won both (in fact, I don’t think I’ve yet seen the bottom of the 9th happen), and both had been super fun. I dance like an idiot when the music comes on.
Clearly, the prospect of going to another one had me excited. I’m not generally a huge Sox fan (or sports fan at all, for that matter). I like to see my home state’s team win, but I don’t have much invested in it and I’m not bothered by Yankees fans, so don’t worry. This isn’t a “woo yeah Sox!” post.
I immediately started thinking up what I should wear. Obviously, I should wear my Sox hat (which I only own because Mike gets the fitted ones but when he ordered tickets last year they sent him a free hat so he gave it to me). Jeans, probably, because it was going to get late and might cool down quite a bit as Boston nights tend to do. A little bit of makeup. I mean, one of Mike’s coworkers also got tickets and was bringing his fiancee, so it’d be sort of like a double date. Fun! Before actually deciding on an outfit, I looked at the fucking weather. The fucking weather proclaimed that: “100°?! ITS FUCKING HOT”. I was startled. I checked Boston and found the exact same thing.
At this point, I ventured outside of our air-conditioned bedroom for the first time. I struggled to breathe. Gasping for air, I dragged myself to the shower and put it on cold. Mike can attest to the fact that this is a BIG DEAL–I love me some hot showers. When I was done, I tore through my dresser trying to find something appropriate to wear. I eventually settled on my comfy “It’s hot out and I don’t care” dress. It’s made out of material similar to those sweatshirts that people wear in early fall, those ones that don’t keep you very warm. I threw out the idea of makeup, because that shit would run down my face after five minutes of being outside.
I covered myself in spray-on “cooling mist” sunscreen, figuring that we’d be in the sun for at least a while once the game started, not realizing that our awesome seats were under another set of seats and we’d be shaded. The sunscreen turned out to be a HUGE fucking mistake. Walking from our apartment to the car caused me to sweat enough that it was dripping into my eyes, and when I looked in a mirror my face looked like I’d been sobbing, so much did that sunscreen hurt.
We were a little late to the game, showing up as Jacoby Ellsbury hit a home run in the 3rd inning. By the time we went to find food, my entire dress was damp and sticking to me. The sunscreen hadn’t stopped dripping into my eyes, which were not adjusting to the giant lights that illuminate the stadium being just in my peripheral vision. And when it’s 100°, the last place you want to be is in a huge fucking crowd of people. The picture that some lady took that I can now buy for $19.99 makes me look like I applied lipstick as blush and bathed in shimmer powder. I’m not a Twilight fan, so this is a bad thing.
There were a few high points of the night. The girl behind me had one of those spray-bottle-fan-things that would occasionally send brief gusts of cool air my way, or even better, a spritz of water. I seriously considered stealing from a child a couple times. Instead, I folded up my program and used it to fan myself. When the muscles that required me to fan myself got tired, I got to play “good girlfriend” for a little while and fan Mike, because it used completely different muscles. It was an exciting game.
But still. Who the hell says “Oh shit, I have these tickets to this game that I don’t want to go to because it’s so hot I will die. What should I do?” and gives them to unsuspecting fans with no warning? I mean. Who does that? Probably a nice, generous person who knew we’d have a good time anyway, but come on. I maintain that it takes a sick mind to do something like that to someone.
And Mike had to go to work really early, so I couldn’t even make us all mojitos when we got back.