baseball binge

It's the last week of baseball.

Seatmate and I are ending with a bang: three games in four days at Fenway, starting last night. We caught up via instant message yesterday and checked out the weather forecast.

SEATMATE
Bring something warm. It'll be a little cold and windy up there.

ME
Up where?

SEATMATE
Up where we're sitting.

ME
Where are we sitting?

SEATMATE
The Monster. (pause) I didn't tell you?
For anyone unversed in Fenway jargon, the Green Monster is a thirty-seven-foot wall in left field. In 2003, seats were added to the top of the Monster. I'd been up there for a look, but I'd never had Monster seats for a game.

And it's cool up there. The view is great. The seats are comfortable (although at five feet tall, I'm comfortable in grandstand seats). The top of the wall is dented and dotted with scuff marks from home runs. Regrettably, no fresh marks were left last night, despite my being fully prepared to break both hands reaching for anything coming my way. Instead, Papi hit his 54th home run of the year into the right-field stands, Curt Schilling pitched his final game of the season, and the Red Sox took a 5-1 victory.

We're back in the stands tonight for Josh Beckett. Go Sox.

taxi follies

We decide to grab a taxi on the way over to Fenway Park tonight. We usually walk, but my ankle is hurting, and I know we'll walk after the game. We head for a nearby cab stand. Up on the next block, three cabs are waiting at the beginning of the stand. I do what I usually do and get in the first cab on my block. "Fenway, please? Go around the back way and drop us at Lansdowne Street."

The cabbie pauses, looking at me in his mirror. "You have to take first taxi in line," he finally says, sounding sullen.

"You're first in line on this block. Let's go."

"I cannot take you anywhere. You must take first taxi in line." * Obstinate, too.

He doesn't want to go to Fenway. It isn't a big enough fare. I don't feel like fighting about it, so we get out of the cab.

We walk to the head of the line and pile into the first cab. "Fenway Park, please. Go around the back way and drop us at Lansdowne Street."

"What back way?"

I have to give directions to one of Boston's biggest tourist attractions? "Boylston to Ipswich takes you to the foot of Lansdowne."

The driver starts to get visibly upset. "I don't know any back way. You'll have to show me." And with that, he throws the car in gear and backs right into the cab behind us with a loud bang.

In an instant, the cabbie from behind is outside the driver's door, screaming. "You hit me!"

"My customers, they talk about back way to Fenway, I was listening to them."

"Don't blame your passengers," Cabbie #2 says, irate. "You backed into me."

"Well, is there a problem?"

Did he say that?

"Hell yes, there's a problem! I need to look at my car for damage. Get out of the car."

I look at Seatmate. "Get out of the car."

We climb into a third cab. Cabbie #3 eyes us warily. "Fenway, please. Take the back route and drop us at the foot of Lansdowne Street."

"What happened with that cab?" he asks suspiciously.

"He hit the guy behind him," Seatmate says.

"And the cab before that?"

"He said we had to take the first cab in line."

Cabbie #3 snorts. "He didn't want to go to Fenway. Sit back, I take you." And he does, using his own route to avoid the major traffic. On the way, I deal with a major attack of the giggles.

"You should have been wearing an 'I'm Blogging This' t-shirt," says Seatmate.

"Oh, and I will."


* I was unable to find the complete laws regarding taxi cabs in the city of Boston. However, for the sake of argument, this is from Rhode Island taxi regulations (PDF):

I. 3. c. A passenger may select any taxicab at a taxi stand, regardless of that taxicab's position in line [.]