… and they lost to the Kansas City Royals. Admittedly, there was a really fucking awful call by the Ref that cost them a run. I mean, seriously, was the guy blind?
In any case, here’s all I’ve got to say about Nationals Park: Good Lord, you’re a fucking ugly stadium. You’re like the uber cheap discount model of stadiums. Like, when cities are shopping for a stadium, you’re not even on the sales floor. You’re tucked away in the back for when Bumfuckville, the largest city in the state of No One Gives a Shit, is about to walk off the floor because they don’t have the cash, the sales guy can say, “Wait! I’ve got one more! It doesn’t have A/C, or power steering, and you’ll have to pay extra for the brakes…” I mean — I’m not expecting the Roman fucking Coliseum, but don’t you think you could’ve at least outdone Camden Yards?
Which, by the way, in case you’re wondering, in case you’ve never been, is a fucking gorgeous baseball stadium. And, really, not that far from DC.
Nationals Park is functional. In the same way that if you bulldozed the White House and replaced it with a bunch of trailers, would be functional. Sure, it gets the job done, but doesn’t presentation matter at all? Gaah.
In any case, I shouldn’t complain. Had a hot dog. Had fun. Sat in the shade. All for a $5 ticket to the “grandstand” — um, not sure what that is (hey, not a big sports fan here), so I just went to the highest row I could find and watched. And, again, my first thought was, “I’m pretty sure Camden Yards is a lot higher.”
For me: that’s a plus. I kind of think if you’re not in nosebleed seating watching a baseball game, you’re doing it wrong. When I’m a billionaire, all the expensive luxury boxes are going to be above the upper most seating, and they’ll feature extremely inverted sloping windows. People’ll ask, “Are you crazy?” And I’ll be like, “…” because, y’know: DUH.
After the game, me and my buddy Chuck (we used to work together, then he got a promotion and went to another location), walked up to Capitol Hill to Chef Spike’s (of Top Chef fame) restaurant Good Stuff, which is sort of like a fancy fast-food restaurant. Here’s the verdict: food yummy (very much so), service and wait? Not so much. I realize we probably got caught in the post-game traffic, but fuck me with a stick. Took twice as long to get our food as to wait in line to order it. Certainly a place to go post-peak eating times, but, hey, Chef Spike came out and was manning the service counter as we were chowing down. I didn’t watch that season of the show, but at least I can say I saw a Top Chef chef in his restaurant as we were eating. I wonder if any of his employees ever give the finger to that giant poster of him in the lobby.
Anyway, having eaten a hot dog, and peanuts, and a bacon cheeseburger, and trying to lose weight as I am, I decided I was going to have to forgo an easy trip home and do some walking. I made my way home via the Folger Shakespeare library, then south of the Capitol, and across the National Mall until I turned due north for Franklin Square, where, soaked in sweat, and tired, I caught a Circulator home.
Hey, it was a four mile walk. I deserved an air conditioned bus ride home. Here’s my route (or a pretty close approximation of it, anyway):