When my cousin Maikal got married, I had decided I couldn't come home for the wedding.
Truthfully, coming home takes a lot out of me. Its so emotionally draining. And sometimes,
(ok, most of the time) I come back and wonder why I went in the first place.
Because school alone is emotionally exhausting, and to add any more drama to that,
is almost more than I can take. But I at the same time I hate to miss out.
So to make me feel better about missing Maikal's wedding, my Dad came to see me.
He wanted to go to a baseball game. When I told my friends, they scoffed. Because Chicago was playing Boston for the first time in like 90 years. And they were positive that we wouldn't be able to get tickets.
But we did.
Well, my Dad did anyways.
We went to Fenway and bought some red sox paraphernalia so we could at least pretend to be fans.
It was freaking cold. And our super ultra light rain jackets were not doing it for us.
But we got commemorative cups and some fenway franks.
And I attempted to steal any warmth my father's arm would offer as we took in the feel of the game.
And then we left before the game was over. HA.
Really, its just kinda cool to be at a game.
Even if you don't stay the entire time.
We were positive that the Red Sox would win. They were definitely up when we left.
But upon arriving back at the hotel, we discovered that in the 8th inning, they'd fallen to pieces and lost miserably. The rainy-mist wasn't worth staying for the game excitement though.
It was fun to say we'd been there though. Witnessing sport history and whatnot.