When we last
recounted our lives, Warrior Queen and I had a deep case of the blues brought on
by an adoption rejection from the local cat shelter. We had applied to get a companion for
Nyla who, as you may recall, lost her
older sister Meredith in January. The
rejection came last Saturday.
Sunday dawned, but Nyla seemed unconcerned at our
rejection. She treated her mommy to an
early Mother’s Day gift: a ticket to see the Phillies play the Washington
Nationals at Citizens Bank Park. We used
to be Sunday season ticket holders, but now
other expenses (ah, that pesky mortgage) forced us to cut back from attending
13 games per year to one.
watching the game is only part of the fun. A good part of the day is taken by getting to the game. The cost of this travel via rail and taxi is
usually as much as the tickets themselves. We used to take a train from our town into Center City, walk two blocks to the Broad Street subway
and disembark for another two block walk to the stadium. We’ve abandoned this approach as the walking
is four blocks too long for my circa 1959 effed up hips.
In the last
few years we have taken a train into Center City, going as far as the third
busiest Amtrak station in the country, 30th Street Station. There we can find dozens of taxis waiting to
take us wherever our little hearts desire. It is definitely more expensive than the Broad Street line, but not as
crowded and not as smelly.
seem to matter how often they clean the Philadelphia subway system. The smell of human urine is omnipresent.
started dreary and overcast. The
weather report had forecast better conditions in the afternoon. Partly sunny, albeit windy.
transportation plans nearly took a turn into disaster this year. The trip to 30th Street went
smoothly. We boarded a cab, driven by a
person of foreign descent, which is not unusual. The immigrants to our shores are much like
our own forefathers: hard working, industrious, pledged to make a better life
for themselves. Our driver this day was
all this, but a bit distracted by some device (computer, iphone, we don’t know)
next to him. He also did not seem to
know where we wanted to go.
helpfully gave instructions: go to Route
76, enter at the South Street on ramp, and head south. I don’t know if the driver heard us - he wore
ear buds the entire trip - but instinct took over and we were soon on our
way. The adventure continued.
that highway our driver tried to pass on the right of a slower moving van in
the center lane. It was a tight
squeeze, but...BAM! The van side-swiped the cab.
thought! Now we’ll be late for the game
while the drivers sort out their little game of bump ‘em cars.
officially, as per the Pennsylvania driver’s manual, when situations like this happen, the participants are legally obligated to
stop, survey the damage to their respective vehicles, perhaps summon the authorities if damage was
thought to be over a certain amount, file a report, exchange insurance
information, and proceed on their merry way. Apparently no such niceties are observed on the wild and woolly streets
of South Philadelphia.
there was no stopping of either vehicle. Perhaps the driver of the van did not know he/she had made contact with
our cab. Our driver slowed down to avoid
running into the back of slowed traffic in the right lane, glanced in the rear view mirror and, upon realizing that the van was not slowing
down, proceeded to pass around the
stopped traffic and onto our destination.
This year the
Phillies celebrated Mother’s Day by distributing wide brimmed white hats to
ladies 14 years of age and older. I did not get one handed to me; I blame the
sight of my scraggly, salt and pepper mustache for precluding me from receiving
the cherished head gear. Bummer!
A hat on my
head would have been handy for the weather. We experienced a drizzling rain once we got to our seats. We had bought the tickets so we would be
under cover of the level above us, or so we thought. It
turned out that our row was the last row in the section NOT to be sheltered by the
concrete seating level at the top of the stadium. I felt a few golf ball sized drops - my use of
the term drizzling is an understatement - before the rain stopped. Anne Marie remained dry; the hat brim was that
wide. The clouds lingered for a few
innings before finally giving way to the promised blue skies.
itself was exciting (we shut out the opposition 1-0), but anti-climatic after
the ride we had in the cab. Our return
trip to 30th Street was likewise uneventful, but the day’s events
worked their magic. Our spirits were
lifted out of our recent disappointments. My good mood even lasted for a few days.
As the work
week wore on, we focused our attentions again on a getting another room mate for
Nyla. We have several leads, and
hopefully this weekend will afford us the time to take advantage of them.
for reading! Happy Mother’s Day to all
the mothers! Wait, that didn’t come out