By Wyatt Earp | September 13, 2007
While talking to RT earlier, she told me that her Dad is going to Baltimore for his high school reunion. Since he will be driving alone, RT is a little concerned about his safety. I told her not to fret. As long as he doesn’t do what I did in college, he should be gold.
The year was 1991. The Pittsburgh Penguins were well on their way to a Stanley Cup championship, William Kennedy Smith was following in his family’s footsteps, and a svelte Wyatt – shut up, it was true! – was in Charm City for the SJU’s Senior Week. My friends Tom and John figured since we’d be there all day, why not take in an Orioles game? The O’s were still playing at old Memorial Stadium, which was a few miles away from the Inner Harbor. Being fit and trim, we decided to walk.
For anyone who has been to Baltimore, you can stop laughing now.
For those who have not, read on.
So, we’re walking through town, three white guys dressed to the nines – had to impress the babes, ya know – without a care in the world. Pretty soon, it started getting dark . . . and I’m not talking about the evening sky. The homes started to look more and more dilapidated, and the residents started to look more and more angry at our “trespass.” We weren’t in Kansas anymore, and we were still two miles from the stadium.
Memorial Stadium was located just down the street from Johns Hopkins University. A fine institution of higher learning. Unfortunately, it is located in the American equivalent of Mogadishu, Somalia, complete with machine gun nests and Apache gunships patrolling the skies. I kept waiting for the cast of Homicide: Life of the Street to come rescue us, but that never happened.
Eventually, we found our sanctuary: the ballpark. It had the homey, lived-in feel of Paris Hilton’s nether-regions, but overall it was a great place. Unfortunately, the O’s were not so great. They got shellacked by the A’s by a score of 13-0. At least I got to see my idol, Cal Ripken, Jr play.
Any hoo, when we left we made the smart decision to catch a cab. Our attire must have screamed “TOURIST,” because the cabbie snarked about it. When we told him that we walked from the Inner Harbor to Memorial, he turned around, looked at us in disbelief, and said, “Are you out of your f**king mind?!!!’
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