Sometime yesterday I got a wild-hair and decided to head out to RFK for the Nationals opener today. I'm such a fucking genius.
A made a couple of phone calls this morning - Got my buddy Nate to meet me out at the park for the game, and managed to secure a couple of free 4th-row tickets right above the visitors dugout - Score.
If that wasn't awesome enough, we also scored tickets to the Budweiser tailgate with free beer, BBQ, and bratwurst - Double score.
We even walked away from the tailgate with schwag-bags filled with free Nats hats and other assorted gratis goodies - Triple Score.
By the time the game started we were working on a decent buzz, full of food, staked out in some bitchin' seats, and still hadn't dropped one dime.
It was the perfect baseball day - mid 70's and clear as could be. Perfect.
It was so nice that It didn't even bother me that the Nats got whomped 2 to 9 by the team that crucified the Cubbies back in the '03 playoffs. Fish bastards.
Speaking of the Cubs, at the end of the game we rushed out to a post-game reception at an Irish bar just in time to watch my boys in blue fall to the Reds (Reds?!?) by 4.
We kept on drinking, and after 8 straight hours of downing free hooch I was passing out on my feet, battling a nasty bout of hiccups, and what little common sense that hadn't been drowned in liquor was telling me to head home.
I reached the homestead in time to catch '24', eat a bowl of soup and pass out on the couch for a few hours.
Perfect fucking day (even though my teams are off to a crap start).