Season opener doesn’t go so well for intrepid intern

Caleb Bruynes

Living in Washington, D.C. this semester has given me opportunities to do some pretty cool things: see votes in Congress, hang out with protesters outside the Supreme Court, watch President Obama speak (name drop, we’re buds). But the thing I was most excited about when I decided to come out here was getting the chance to see the Minnesota Twins start their season in Baltimore, Md. against the Orioles. I took that chance on Saturday, April 9 and here is a time line of that miserable day:

8:01 a.m. 

I wake up to throw a Twins shirt and jeans in the washer because I have no clean clothes except for an Orioles shirt, ironically, which I bought sarcastically.

8:03 a.m. 

I go back to sleep.

9:02 a.m. 

I put my clothes in the dryer.


I go back to sleep.

11 a.m. 

I wake up, get dressed and walk 0.8 miles to the nearest metro station to take me to the train station. On my way there I get a 20-piece Chicken Mcnugget meal from McDonalds, which doesn’t make the walk any easier. In fact, I felt the effects of those nuggets all day. This guy knows what I’m talking about! (Motion to the larger gentleman. (Just kidding, there is nobody here.))

12:43 p.m. 

I arrive at the station for the 1:05 train to Baltimore. Except it’s a 1:45 train, because it’s delayed. But, while waiting, I find a five-dollar bill on the ground. After tirelessly searching for the rightful owner for two or three seconds, I decide to keep it. Loser’s weepers.

1:45 p.m. 

Off to Baltimore. A 46-minute train ride would be a good chance to take a nap if a little child wasn’t screaming. His mom gives him an iPad, he calms down. Thank you, Steve Jobs.

2:46 p.m. 

I arrive in Baltimore safely.

3:12 p.m. 

I arrive at Oriole Park at Camden Yards. Unfortunately the gates don’t open until 5 p.m. for a 7 p.m. game so I spend some time walking around the stadium taking in the sights and awkwardly high-fiving random Twins’ fans. (I may have hugged a few.)

3:26 p.m. 

I find a bar with a man outside holding a sign that says, “cheap (expletive) beer” and yelling, “cheap (expletive) beer!” … Redundant, but sold.

4:30 p.m. 

After spending $20 dollars at the “cheap beer” place (2 for $5, do the math), it was time to walk back to the stadium and wait in line.

4:45 p.m. 

While waiting in line I play a game I like to call “Ruin As Many People’s Day As I Can,” which consists of me offering to take pictures for other people, and putting my finger over the lens each time. I like seeing how many chances they give me before they give up. One family let me ruin four pictures before they asked somebody else. Also, I made funny faces in the background of eight other people’s pictures. I’m 23-years-old.

5:01- 6:30 p.m. 

The gates open and I walk around a little before settling in my seat just before game time.

6:46 – 7:05 p.m. 

I make a little small talk with the Oriole fan sitting next to me. She happens to be an elementary school librarian.

Her: “I’m an elementary school librarian. What do you do?”

Me: “Oh, I’m an elementary school librarian too!”

Her: “So, are you from Minnesota?”

Me: “Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not too obnoxious.”—A lie

“I’ll try to keep it under control.” – Another lie

7:05 – 7:30 p.m.

The Twins racked up zero hits in the first inning. Disappointing, but not surprising. But the Twins starting pitcher, Francisco Liriano, strikes out the first three hitters, prompting this gem of heckling from me: “How’s that feel, librarian lady!?”

7:30 – 10:20 p.m. 

Basically nothing good happens except I buy a $5.00 hot dog. Twins lose 8-2 and I am completely obnoxious and absolutely not under control.

11 p.m. 

I get back to the train station, where I see a couple other Twins’ fans. We console each other and try to convince ourselves that it’s not that bad and life will go on. We all know better than to actually believe it.

11:50 p.m. 

Our train hits a deer five miles outside of D.C. We’re unable to continue because the deer cut our break line. Stranded.

3:05 a.m. 

After over three hours of waiting in a dark, motionless train and counting how many similarities there are between my exact situation and horror movies where everyone gets murdered, another train comes along to push us home to D.C.

3:50 a.m. 

I finally get back to D.C. Only now, the metro has closed. My only way home is a cab. Crap.

4:35 a.m. 

I finally get a cab — before even asking me where I’m going, the driver says, “30 bucks.” Crap.

4:57 a.m. 

I get home and it’s time for bed, at last. Baltimore is okay, I guess