Bezbol? Yoo Bet!

So Tuesday night Mrs. Farrago said to me, “Wanna do something outrageous tomorrow?”

Immediately my thoughts jumped to Swedish folk-song karaoke, or nude skydiving, or going to church on the south side, but then I said, “Sure! What?”

“The Cleveland Indians are playing their next few home games in Milwaukee, until the snow stops falling in Cleveland. We could go see a night game!”

Mrs. Farrago has joined a Fantasy Baseball league over at Flashback Alternatives, and has become acutely aware of Baseball in general. One of her players is a member of the Cleveland Indians, and she thought it a good idea to go and keep an eye on her boy.

I thought for a moment – not exactly outrageous, but certainly spontaneous and fun – and said, “Sure!” I was taking the day off anyway for a dental cleaning appointment in the afternoon, after which was Mrs. Farrago’s cleaning, so we were getting free at about the same time. We briefly planned our moves for the day and made ready for bed. When I came upstairs, she informed me of Wednesday’s weather forecast: snow.

A brief aside here: we live in Chicago. There are a lot of people around here, in Chicago. They’re mostly all Chicagoans. Spring is an arbitrary word to mark a period of time set off by a fairly pagan observance called the Vernal Equinox, the day in March when sunrise to sunset takes the same amount of time as sunset to sunrise, on the way to longer days and shorter nights. The first day of spring does NOT magically convert the weather from nasty cold and rain or snow to birds chirping and flowers blooming. In Chicago that transition period can last into the first days of June. So yes. Sometimes in April it SNOWS, people! You (Chicagoans) KNOW this. It isn’t a surprise. So SHUT UP already!

Okay, snow. Not a big deal…unless you’re anticipating a 90-plus mile drive in it.

As it turned out, Wednesday was mostly a cold, slushy affair. I headed out to Macy’s on State Street to buy some luggage (they’re having a sale! Have I ever mentioned here that I travel a lot?). I picked out a set of three pieces. We’ve never purchased a set before. Seems kinda silly to me, but then I thought, “What the heck! We’re a team; we might as well have team ‘stuff.’” The salesman went off to the bowels of the store to get it and then, ten minutes later, informed me that he didn’t have that set complete in red. I was about to be late for my appointment, so I asked him if he had a complete set in the black. He said yes, but he would have to go in back again to get it. I asked him to pull it and put a hold on it, and I would come back in about an hour and a half to get it.

Of course, coming back for it threatened to delay us in getting to Milwaukee in time for the 7:05 start of the game, but if I ran back to the store during Mrs. Farrago’s appointment, purchased the luggage, ran it to the car in the parking garage, and then drove the five blocks back to the dentist’s office building to pick her up, we could be on the road by 4:30.

On my walk to my 2:30 appointment Mrs. Farrago called with unhappy news: she was misled on the game’s start time. It’s 7:05 Eastern time; 6:05 central. We lost an hour of time to get there!

Now we had only an hour and a half to get there, the usual amount of time it takes just to make the drive from Chicago to Milwaukee. We were guaranteed to miss the start.

When I arrived at the dentist’s I was asked if Mrs. Farrago was on her way, as there had been a cancellation, and they could get her in at 2:30! We got our hour back! I called her, and she said she could definitely make it there by 2:30, and at 2:29 she walked into the office!

We got through our cleanings and were on our way back to Macy’s. The luggage had indeed been pulled, and we were on our way back out the door by 4:00.

We ventured out into the early rush-hour Kennedy Expressway traffic, which, in the downtown area was not bad at all. A couple miles out into the neighborhoods it slowed down, which was to be expected. Switching over to the Edens Expressway, the artery to the north, it was much the same, but, as usual, it opened up around Old Orchard road and the town of Skokie.

It was breezy for a while, despite the wet roads and the hesitant snowfall. Then we saw a traffic status electronic sign that gave a 61-minute travel time to Gurnee, Illinois, at a point where it should only take about 25 to 30 to get there.

There is no agony quite as acute as when you are on a time deadline and there is an unexpected slowdown of traffic. The cars are moving, but at 12 miles per hour you want to crawl out of your skin. I assumed that there was some sort of accident blocking a lane or two up ahead.

Traffic oozed and gushed in an accordion bellows fashion, crawling for a mile, and then spurting forward quickly for about two miles before grinding to a crawl again. This went on for about 45 minutes when, suddenly, we were in the clear. Without a massive exodus of cars from the highway at one or two exits, the congestion ahead of us was broken. No accident. No construction. Just people collectively brain-farting at the same place and causing a 15-mile logjam.

Finally, at about 6:00 we entered greater Milwaukee. Another electronic sign told us that Miller Park traffic needed to take the I-894 bypass in order to avoid a closed exit. There was some other information there, but it was too much to gather at 60 miles per hour. Really, they need several signs along the way to convey that much information.

Before you could say “wild goose chase,” it was quite evident we weren’t going to see any more signs about Miller Park. At the next exit we pulled off and stopped at a gas station for directions. A customer there told me she lives right near the park, so I trusted her words completely. I think she had red hair. I can’t remember because her cleavage got in the way. It’s a wonder I remembered the directions.

We arrived at the park around 6:25. Finally! We opted first to park in the $8 general parking lot, a seven dollar savings over premium parking. But the line into general parking was so very long, and I had just about had it with sitting in a line of cars and waiting. So we turned around and headed for premium parking. As it turns out, premium was only $8, too! And being about a quarter-mile closer to the park, saved us another ten minutes from missing more of the game, not to mention surely saving our bladders!

We found our upper deck, behind-home-plate-to-the-third-base-side seats…in the top of the third inning. The Angels were already ahead 1-0. Miller Park is a beautiful stadium, designed for baseball, with a retractable roof. The management of the park certainly knows a lot of tricks to keep people – especially kids – entertained when the game itself isn’t doing the job. However, the fans proved themselves capable of some entertainment of their own, as some on one end of the grandstands began a session of waves that lasted fully five minutes, with nearly everyone participating! The funniest part was when one section slowed it down, and everyone else followed suit for two passes of slo-mo wave!

So, 30 dollars for two beers, four dogs and a brat later, the game was over. Cleveland never caught up, despite the excitement of a solo home run in the sixth(?) inning. Mrs. Farrago’s boy wasn’t even in attendance, instead preferring to be with his wife as she delivers their baby. Was the two-hour drive worth it? Hell, there have been days my drive to work has been two hours. For a pleasant evening of baseball? You bet it was worth the drive!

Final score: Anaheim Angels 4, Cleveland Indians 1. And I don’t care! Any game where the Cubs don’t lose is a good game!