So I’m at Fenway Pahk.

Never been to Boston before. Never even met someone from Boston. Most of what I know is stereotypes and Pawk the Cah in Hahvahd Yahd and what Batman would sound like if he was from Boston.

I get to my seat. The two guys directly behind me are already fucked-in-half drunk and telling each other stories about fisticuffs down by the dawks in their youths. Now, both of these gentlemen have noses that have been broken, one has a cauliflower ear. They have seen violence.

They’re not in their correct seats though, so they get booted in the 2nd inning by two dudebros who sound like someone making fun of Mark Wahlbergs Boston accent and their girlfriends, and they’ve been spending the past two innings making fun of one of the guys who is apparently free-balling it, because he accidentally shit himself while pregaming and had to throw away his boxers.

Sometimes, just listening to other people is the best.

(later)

I kept track and the dudebros behind me finished up at 12 and 14 beers each. Pantshitter (12) ended the game in the doghouse with his girlfriend because he spilled half a cup of beer down her shirt. He tried to make up for it by shouting “I HAFF THAH HAWTEST GIRLFRIEND IN BAWSTON!” to everyone around them and demanding people agree.

14 beers started zoning out of it by the 7th inning so his girlfriend started talking to me, beginning by asking me if I was a season ticket holder (probably b/c of my intense focus on the game). No ma’am. I’m wearing a Mariners hat.

In the eighth inning they hit a foul ball RIGHT at us and if I had maybe another six inches to my vertical I would have snared it, but I didn’t, and a kid took out my feet and I fucked my ankle on landing. They were all very saddened by this. Pantshitter tried to give me a fistbump in solidarity and spilled half his beer on my pants and half of what remained on the other girls leg.

The girlfriends went to the bathroom to wipe off the beer and by now 14 had recovered slightly and they spent the next half inning drunkenly telling each other how much they loved each other, bra.

So the game ends (Red Sox win 12-1) and everybody heads out. Turns out there’s an anime convention not far away and so hundreds of drunk Red Sox fans singing Sweet Caroline are all streaming past hundreds of nerds in full anime cosplay and both sides eyeing each other suspiciously.

I like Boston.