Return to Oriole Park

September 11, 2015

We chose to return to Oriole Park as Orioles fans this time. This trip also marked our 60th game together. Consider it our Traveling Baseball Baberversary. We left for Baltimore after work. Made pretty good time until the BQE. There, we died. We died for a long time. On the plus side, we drove alongside a sexy beast in an Acura. He waved to us. We swooned.

We posted photos and videos of our drive down to Baltimore on Instagram/Twatter (@TravelingBBabes). If you haven't checked them out/"liked" all of our photos yet, you should really get on that. We don't know what you're waiting for.

Serena photographed our arrival:

 

 

We parked in a nearby garage for $20, which sounds steep, but after being on the road for over four hours, we probably would've paid a lot more. We just wanted out of the car. We approached the stadium from the same angle that we approached it in 2008.

The first thing we noticed is that there were the new additions to the area (at least the additions were new for us). The numbers of retired Orioles. And also, Babe Ruth. With a lot of people hanging around him.

 

 

 

 

 

Once inside, we received our free giveaway - an Orioles hoodie sweatshirt.We also got our TrapperKeepers stamped and ran around the Kids' Zone.

 

 

Before heading to our seats, we bought an O's pretzel and a bacon on a stick.

 

Lisa had an incident while standing on line waiting for her stick of bacon. When Serena found her at the stand, Lisa had dry heave face on. Serena almost asked why when she smelled it. The scent of diaper shit. And something special. Extra special. According to Lisa's sources (and by "sources," we mean that Lisa eavesdropped on a couple's conversation), the Orioles' ballpark staff neglected to take the garbage out during the last homestead. We cannot confirm or deny if this is true. It seems unlikely that this is what transpired, but the smell was unlike any other. It was worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench. And death. Decaying death. And poop. Decaying poop.

On a more positive, both food items were delicious. Thank god the poop smell couldn't curb our appetite.

Here are some photos taken from our seats:

 

 This photo is why we're probably not looking any sexier from our half-marathon training:

We look so much nicer in low lighting...

There are 79 bronze baseball-shaped plaques scattered across the concourse on Eutaw Street representing each home run hit beyond the outfield walls to Eutaw Street. Since there are so many, we agreed to document the first Yankee player we found. Unfortunately, that Yankee was Johnny Damon. Since Serena refused to allow that man to be commemorated on our blog, we settled for the second Yankee. That player was Curtis Granderson, now playing for the Mets. So it was a win-win.

We also found the plaque for Ken Griffey's home run during the 1993 Home Run Derby in which he hit the wall of the warehouse.

We found out that Papa Schwall was in the house, so we met him by Boog's BBQ to say hello. He kind of reminds us of Papa L., only he's not bitter. Or angry. We failed and didn't take a photo of him for the blog. Doom on us. He wore a spiffy Orioles polo shirt whereas we looked like greasy white trash.

Since Serena has been to Oriole Park several times before her visit with Lisa in 2008, she's already sampled the savory tastes of Boog's BBQ. Therefore, Serena purchased a crab cake ("crab cakes and football. That's what Maryland's made of.") for us to split. At the the BBQ stand, Lisa ordered the pork sandwich and added BBQ sauce and horseradish. Since we didn't feel like climbing all the way back to our seats, we sat on the floor of Eutaw Street and ate. Like classy beasts. Sitting around the African watering hole, swatting the flies were our smelly tails.

 

 

Again, our food choices were on point this evening. This made up for the horrendous sausage sandwich we had at the ballpark in 2008. Serena's phone began dying in the top of the 8th inning, so before it officially died, we ran to the area behind left centerfield to photograph the bronze statues of the retired players.

 

 

 

 

We knew that we had to get back to New York for our Yankees' double header the following afternoon. Therefore, instead of spending the night, we chose to head back to Long Island that night. We initially planned on staying for the entire game, but to be frank, the game wasn't pretty. Kansas City rolled all night. At the bottom of the 8th, we felt it best to hit the road. It was already after 11, we had at least four hours to drive, and we knew that we had a long day coming our way. So we left. As we departed, we re-took the photo of the Babe Ruth statue without anyone using him as a jungle gym.

 

As Serena snapped these last photos, her phone died. We returned to the car and turned the air conditioner on as high as possible so that we could continue wearing our comfy cozy sweatshirts.

Lisa turned onto the parkway. Serena plugged her phone into the mobile charger. A few things happened. For starters, we missed Papa Schwall finding awesome field level seats for us to sit in. More importantly, we missed the grand slam home run and solo home run that gave Baltimore the come from behind victory. Awesome.

You're welcome, Baltimore. If we'd stayed until the end, you would've lost.

Most Annoying Fans We've Ever Encountered

We've all met them at one sporting event or another. They suck the life force from your body. They make you hate the game. They make you desperate for an alcoholic beverage...or a loaded gun to turn on yourself. It's the token annoying fan that has decided to take root in the seat beside you (or behind you or in front of you). So thoughtful. Before we get into our list of the Most Annoying Fans We've Ever Encountered, we must discuss last week's poll results. In an effort to legitimately improve our blog for your pleasure, we asked which option you'd like to see more of. Sadly, only 4 people responded. Are you people kidding us? There's no way you actually enjoy what we give you on a week to week basis. There must be SOMETHING you want us to change. 3 of you want to see more video of the TBB in action. This is a pretty terrible idea, but we're willing to accommodate your request. This season, we will strive to deliver more video nonsense, whether it be in "web diary" format or interview format. Or both. 1 sad little head voted for more photos. Okay, is this even possible? We literally had to BUY more space on Google in order for us to accommodate all of our stupid photos. No one wanted to see more letters (which saddens us seeing as how we have the most fun writing these... that and our dialogues). Since only 4 people voted, we're just going to take it upon ourselves to assume that the letter lovers out there got busy and forgot to vote, therefore we will continue writing them. Also, no one voted for more game-related blog posts. While this is definitely more convenient and cost-friendly, we can't help but be slightly confused. You DO realize that the primary focus of this blog is us attendings games, right? Yet you don't want to read about that. So...akward...

Onto our discussion of the individuals who are more annoying than we are. Over the course of our friendship, we have attended many, many baseball games. We wish we could be more specific as to how many we've spectated together, but goldfish have better memories than we do. In that time, there have been some major a-holes sitting in our vicinity making us miserable. We've decided to gather the worst of them here in one location so that you would feel sorry for us and start sending us gifts. Listed in no particular order, we present The Most Annoying Fans We've Ever Accounted:

• We'll kick things off with the O's fan sitting behind us at the ALDS game at Yankees Stadium most recently. You remember her, right? We described her as, "the biggest fratada O's fan in the franchise's history." Instead of cheering for her team, she shrieked a high-pitch sound that could cause your ear drums to bleed. She also leaned her weight on Serena in order to get out of her seat, which is a no-no. She's lucky Serena didn't grab her by her black feather boa and throw her down the steps. Let's face it. The only person that would've gotten angry with Serena was the bitch's boyfriend. The rest of our section, which included O's fans mind you, would've cheered. The shrieking ptereodactyl's staying power lasted through ALL of the extra innings. We only got respites during her potty breaks. You're lucky we survived this ordeal.
• We had a lot of problems with Dodger Stadium, but not even the tastebud-raping Dodger Dog could top the hot mess sitting next to Lisa during our visit. The overpowering stench emanating from his body was enough to cause us to pass out. In our blog post regarding Dodger Stadium, we described it as such: "an odor similar to a dumpster that a drunken person had thrown up in." Crazy as it may sound, the scent wasn't even the worst part. It was his drandruff. Each time he scratched his head, large, white flakes drifted from his hair and landed on Lisa. Who could've guessed that when we flew out to Los Angeles during the summer months that we'd witness a snowfall?
• Oriole Park is a beautiful place. For the most part, O's fans are lovely people. Aside from the Yankees sucking major c*ck during that game, we really enjoyed ourselves...except for one a-hole that wouldn't shut up. He wasn't an O's fan OR a Yankees fan, both of which you'd expect to find at an O's/Yankees game. He was a Red Sox fan wearing a David Ortiz t-shirt. It was bad enough that this douchenozzle wore the wrong shirt to the game, but then he didn't have the decency to sit in his seat and shut the f*ck up during the game (despite his friends' best efforts to keep him quiet). In addition to the totally unoriginal "Yankees suck" chant (guys, seriously? The "XYZ sucks" chant is so played out. Be more innovative), he ran up and down the rows screaming obscenities and anti-Yankees AND Orioles statements. Even his friends were appalled. O's fans the size of Ray Lewis threatening his life wouldn't make him shut up and sit down. It was like he was begging someone to murder him. Why couldn't it be us who fulfilled his suicide request? He was so distracting that at one point, Serena couldn't follow what was happening on the field. All she could do was watch him run back and forth, screaming like chimpanzee.
• We think supporting your team on the road is a cool thing, however we think you should show your host fans a little courtesy. It's not YOUR house you're hanging out in. It's THEIRS. Don't be a snatch. This was the moral of the day when we attended the Twins/Cubs game at Wrigley Field. Who knew that Minnesota could produce such enormous a$$ clowns? We always assumed that people from the midwest were nice, friendly folk. For starters, Twins fans outnumbered Cubs fans...by A LOT. This isn't necessarily the fault of the Twins fans. The drunken antics and obnoxious cheering, however, IS the fault of the Twins fans. In particular, there was a group of obnoxious drunk male Twins fans sitting behind us. One of them looked like Chipper Jones. He marched up and down the stairs of our section while taunting anyone in a Cubs hat. Um, did he get the memo that he was in Chicago, not Minneapolis? Finally, Serena felt compelled to stand up for her...um...erm..."fellow" Cubs fans. She got to her feet and shouted a string of curse words at him that may or may not have culminated with her calling him a Chicklet-toothed a-hole. Neighboring Cubs fans applauded her.
• Eating peanuts or sunflower seeds at a ball game is totally acceptable. If it wasn't, the stadiums wouldn't sell them. However, there is a wrong way and a right way to eat these messy snack items. Spitting the shells out at your neighbor like the man sitting in front of us at Miller Park is NOT the right way. Not only is it dangerous to your neighbor, but it's also digusting. This dude pelted his girlfriend with sunflower seeds at a rapid-fire rate similar to that of a machine gun. When the seeds didn't nail his girlfriend in her head, they landed in our purses, which was a delightful treat to find later on at our hotel room.
• Nothing pisses us off more than female fans who claim to be fans, but who are really clueless. At Turner Field, we landed some pretty decent field level seats and had an amazing view of the game. In front of us sat two couples. The guys seemed to actually give two sh*ts about what was happening on the field. The chicks? Not so much. They spent the entire time giggling loudly, making appointments in their iPhones, and talking about where they were going to get drunk after the game. If they looked at the field once, it would've been a lot. To top it off, every time they turned their heads, their ponytails would whip our knees, which is annoying in itself, but add the fact that we were melting in the hot Atlanta sun and the ponytail whipping was nearly unbearable. Who spends that kind of money on baseball tickets and doesn't watch a single play of the game? Such a waste.
• During our very first (and only) Subway Series game together at Shea Stadium, we walked cheerfully through the parking lot on our way to what we thought would be an enjoyable game with our fellow New Yorkers. This would NOT be so. As we passed a group of drunk Mets fans (males) tailgating, one douchebag hopped out of his lawnchair, stumbled over to us, and threw a slice of cheese at us, shouting, "Flag on the play! Mets fan hanging out with a Yankees fan! Foul!" While Serena stared at the sad piece of cheese now slowly melting into a dirty puddle on the concrete, Lisa tried to defend our friendship. "Hey! She's a good Yankees friend! She's not a jerk!" He continue to shout over Lisa and throw cheese, "Flag on the play! Flag on the play!" Finally, we couldn't take it anymore. In almost unison, we shouted, "If you throw one more piece of cheese, we're going to shove it up your a$$!" Bro, be an a-hole to a Phillies fan. Don't be an a-hole to your own kind. New Yorkers have to stick together. We already have a bad reputation across the country.
• Speaking of Phillies fans, as you are well aware by now, we did not have the best of times at Citizens Bank Park. One pair of fans in particular stood out to us. When we sat down on a park bench to rest for a brief moment, two little sh*t heads decided to drop ice cubes on us from above. Apparently, this wasn't good enough because their fathers came by and encouraged them to THROW the ice cubes at us, not drop them. Naturally, we greeted them with words of violent abuse before departing the scene. Fathers, if you're reading this, we hope your kids grow up someday to "accidentally" set your house on fire.
• RFK Stadium was the first "away" stadium we'd ever visited. Despite its lack of personality, we were so excited about being at a game not taking place in New York that we just plopped down in a pair of seats to watch batting practice. After minding our own business and happily absorbing the activities on the field for about 15 minutes, we were accosted (yes, accosted) by four uptight, rich bitch yuppies. In a snooty tone of voice that made us think that her family probably owned a plantation during the Civil War period, one of the woman wearing a pompous sunhat and a tennis skirt (who wears a tennis skirt to a baseball game anyway?) declared, "You're sitting in our seats! Please move before we call security." Okay, we hate it when people sit in our seats too, but unlike in New York where (at the time) scoring seats to a Mets or Yankees game was like scoring a high-five from the Pope, NO ONE was going to any Nationals games. There were hundreds of empty seats around us for them to sit in. Plus, our seats were in the same section. We just hadn't found them yet. Regardless, we stood up, apologized, and gathered our belongings so that we could move. She continued to shout, "THESE ARE OUR SEATS! MOVE!" Like it was a matter of life or death if she didn't sit in her seat within the next 10 seconds. Satisfaction was ours when we found our seats and they were better than hers. We sat down, turned to where they were sitting, smiled our best "F*ck You" grins, and waved.
• Meeting new people at games can be a fun adventure and may garner you the opportunity to score free beer. It can also be a nightmare. Don't sit down next to people you don't know and chew their ears off for an entire game so that they can't watch. When we attended a Twins game at Yankees Stadium during the stadium's final season, we had the misfortune of sitting next to a group of drunk guys from Alabama. The topics of conversation that he peppered Serena with are as follows: How much he hated New York City, New York City is the filthiest city he's ever been to, Shea Stadium is a total dump (even though he'd never been there), how much he hated the Yankees, his friend is a relief pitcher for the Twins (why he was stuck sitting in the last row of the upper deck then is beyond us), the New York Giants were the worst football team EVER, and the Miami Dolphins rule. Kill. Us. Please. Don't travel to someone else's city and waste an entire 9 innings of their time bashing it. Keep your opinions to yourself, return to your hick town in Alabama, and write a blog about it that all four of your friends will read.
• At our recent trip to Citi Field, we had the pleasure of sitting in front of a man who spent the entire game badgering Eric Hinske of the Braves for an autograph. We must've heard, "I'll give you tickets to Jersey Boys. I know the guy who owns Jersey Boys" at least thirty times. "It's a great play! I'll get you two tickets!" Eric Hinske probably now hates Frankie Vallie. When he hears, "Walk Like a Man," he probably wants to punch a baby. When you shout things like this at the opposing team, you give other sane New Yorkers a bad name.
• Every game has one of these guys. The "Sit Down" or "Down In Front" guy. These guys are just as bad as the a-hole they're yelling at. At some point in the game, we might have to stand up whether it's to stretch, pee, get a cold beverage, or get a better view of what's happening at the play. Not everyone that stands at the game is standing to be selfish snatch. There is absolutely no reason for you to shout "sit down" every time we stand. We don't turn around and tell you to "shut the f*ck up" every time you speak even though we may desperately want to. Our first tangle with this alpha male toolbox was during a Giants/Mets game at Shea Stadium (so long ago that Tom Glavine started for the Mets and Barry Bonds was being booed at the plate). The guy sitting in front of us stood up to pull his wallet from his back pocket to pay the beer vendor. A man sitting behind us gruffly repeatedly shouted, "Down in front!" The guy sat down and turned around to shout the best comeback ever: "Oh, I'm sorry! I had no idea that you were paying the mortgage of Shea Stadium!" It's true. You do NOT own your baseball team or the stadium in which your team plays. Yes, there may be times when certain oblivious fans need a reminder that they're blocking the view of the play, but there is absolutely no need to yell incessantly OR to yell at every single fan that stands up. That's a lot of yelling. And you're invading our hearing space. We don't like it.

Our super hero of the week is Domino's cheesey bread and the a-hole of the week is the New York Jets for bending over a table and allowing the New England Patriots to have their way with them without a fight. That's all, folks. The Giants game is going to be on in an hour and we need to mentally prepare for it. Peace!

The Worst (and Best) Things We’ve Ever Put in Our Mouths (at a Ballpark)

Now that it’s the New Year, we felt that it was time for a fresh start. We’ve decided that we’re going to become magically rich. We’re going to be able to eat whatever we want and not care about whether or not we have enough money to pay the tolls to get back home from Yankees Stadium. No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us! We’re gonna look bangin’ because Serena is going to re-hire Trainer Stephen to work our sorry asses out on a regular basis. We’re also going to hire Hair Stylist Lisa McFarland and Colorist Dave Rios to be our full-time hair specialists. They’ll even go on vacation with us. We’ll stay in 5-star hotels. No more crap Wyndham Rewards hotels for us. Furthermore, we’ll invest our money in great things. Great things like a Major League Baseball team. We haven’t quite figured out where our team is going to be located, but thanks to you lovely folks, we’re pretty confident that we know what our team name will be. Of 7 votes, 2 of you chose “Dances with Booze” to be the name of our new franchise. The rest of the options (The Great Whites, The Velociraptors, The Anacondas, The Prancing Daisies, and The Food Babies) each earned 1 vote. Congratulations. You’re looking at the future owners of Dances with Booze.

As you may have guessed from our blog title, today we are going to talk about Ballpark food…or you may have assumed that we were talking about penis. After visiting 19 different stadiums across the country, we’ve shoveled a lot of tasty and not-so-tasty items in our pie holes. We’ll start with the worst of them listed in no order of importance (basically because we couldn’t figure out which item really was THE worst of the bunch).

The Worst Things We’ve Ever Put in Our Mouths (at a Ballpark):

• The “famous” Dodger Dog found at Dodger Stadium. One would think that a hot dog with a catchy name would be delicious. You’ d be wrong to assume that of the Dodger Dog. For starters, it’s visually unappealing. To quote our initial assessment of the Dodger Dog, it “looks like a child’s finger that had accidentally been burned on a toaster oven.” Secondly, the taste is an abomination. “It is a raping of your taste buds and a violation of basic human rights.” There is still no word as to whether or not this hot dog has been FDA approved yet. We’re pretty sure it causes cancer.
• Target Field’s $1 Hot Dog was awful. It was hardly worth the dollar. We wouldn’t feed this to a homeless man dying of starvation because it wouldn’t be fair to him. We called it “ass in the mouth.” The only saving grace was the fact that Serena coated hers with Sriracha sauce which disguised the “ass in the mouth” taste. Lisa was not as fortunate.
• The Minneapie from Target Field sounded awesome, but was a serious disappointment. We had been sucked into the name of the dessert, thinking to ourselves, “We’re never going to find a Minneapie anywhere else! We HAVE to try it!” Plus, the cashier described it as “fried apple pie.” We assumed that it was an actual apple pie fried in dough and then sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar…which probably means that our inner selves are obese children. This dessert cost us $7. What we actually received was a cinnamon-sprinkled Lean Pocket. It’s not like the taste was terrible, but the delivery of the product failed to live up to our expectations, making feeding time extremely disappointing.
• On the topic of disappointing desserts, the fried dough at Citi Field failed to live up to our expectations. Like the Minneapie, it didn’t technically taste bad. It was just boring. After 3 bites, we kind of wanted to quit, but the fact that we’d just wasted money on it forced us to plow through it like champions. Disappointed champions. As Lisa puts it, Citi Field’s fried dough was “like an okay lay. You’re happy you got laid, but it could’ve been better.”
• The Ball Tip Steak Sandwich from the Kinder’s BBQ stand at McAfee Coliseum. The sandwich itself cost around $9 and consisted of meat soaked in mayonnaise. The red juice from the meat mixing with the mayonnaise looked like an infected cut. Serena just threw up in her mouth reliving this experience. Even Lisa, who actually likes mayonnaise, wanted to end her life after eating this sandwich. Any a-hole who destroys the essence of steak with mayonnaise should be run over with a bus.
• Citizen’s Bank Park’s sausage sandwich. Eating that sandwich was 5 minutes of our time that we’ll never get back. That’s it. That time is gone. It could’ve been filled with something better. Like a really good, long piss. Lisa didn’t even finish hers. She claims that her peppers and onions weren’t even cooked. Plain Melba Toast had more flavor than that sandwich, which is sad because as you all know by now, we love Italian sausage.
• Another sausage sandwich that depressed the f*ck out of us is the one served at Safeco Field. Sawdust has more flavor in it than this sandwich. At least the onions and peppers were cooked this time though.
• We feel bad about including this next one on our list, but it needs to be done. The hot dog at Wrigley Field. The grilled dog itself was actually very good as were the variety of toppings (tomatoes, jalapeño peppers, relish, onions, mustard, and ketchup). The problem with this hot dog was the poppy seeded bun. The stand that serves the grilled hot dogs stores the hot dog buns on a shelf over the grill. As a result, the steam from the grill floats upward and makes the buns soggy. Try eating a hot dog heavily laden with toppings on a wet bun that’s falling apart. It’s a pain in the ass and messy.

The Best Things We’ve Ever Put in Our Mouths (at a Ballpark):

• Both the grilled bratwurst and polish sausage sandwiches from Target Field belong on this list. They were hearty, juicy, and the meat was seasoned with black pepper. When discussing these two sandwiches, we called them “FAN-F*CKING-TASTIC.” They could make a girl wet themselves, we assure you.
• The A’s helmet filled with french fries were awesome! Golden and crispy. These fries made up for the misery that the Ball Tip Steak Sandwich created.  
• PETCO Park’s pulled pork sandwich served at the Randy Jones BBQ Pit is monster-sized and totally worth the price of $8.50. We were actually pretty full after eating it and you know how rare that is. One of the guys traveling with us to that stadium couldn’t finish his sandwich because he was “full.” We’re pretty sure he has an eating disorder though, so we don’t know if that really counts as being “full.”
• RFK Stadium’s Italian sausage sandwich is the reason why we had put so many terrible sausages in our mouth in the first place. It is proof that god or some higher power loves us and wants us to be happy. The yellow, green, and red peppers were fresh and grilled to perfection. The sausage itself was the perfect sausage. Spicy, juicy, and girthy. It was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited. It might be one the best $5 ever spent.
• Yankees Stadium’s Lobel’s steak sandwich is glorious. If you ever have one chance to visit Yankees Stadium and there’s a good chance you’ll never make it back there, go with this steak sandwich. It’s expensive, but totally worth it. The sandwich is served on a buttery roll STUFFED with juicy, thick meat. More importantly, no mayonnaise.
• The Xtreme Dog at Coors Field is literally the best hot dog that we’ve ever had the pleasure of putting into our mouths. For $6.50, you have multiple options of hot dogs covered in a plethora of toppings. Lisa had the Denver Dog which included jalapeño peppers, cheddar cheese, chopped onions, and green chili sauce. That sauce was no joke. Lisa breathed fire for the rest of the day after eating that hot dog. Serena got the New York Dog, which included grilled peppers and onions, spicy mustard, sauerkraut, and chopped onions and then she turned around and added cheddar cheese and jalapeño peppers. Our friend, AJ ordered the Rockies’ Bacon Bleu, which included chopped onions, bleu cheese sauce, bleu cheese crumbles, and bacon.
• Another expensive ballpark item, the crab sandwich served at the Crazy Crab’z stand at AT&T Park is well worth the cost. The grilled sourdough bread is stuffed with crab meat. STUFFED! If you like seafood, you can’t go wrong with this purchase.
• The garlic fries that are now sweeping the nation originated at AT&T Park and they do garlic fries the best. The plate of fries is coated with garlic and oil so don’t plan on making out with anyone after eating these bad boys.

An Honorable Mention goes to the barbecue food served at Boog’s BBQ Stand at Oriole Park. The food is AMAZING and Serena highly recommends anyone visiting the stadium to eat there. The only reason we can’t put this on the list is that Serena ate at that stand during an earlier visit to the ballpark without Lisa. Lisa has yet to experience the wonder that is Boog’s BBQ.

Baseball note:

According to sources, Jorge Posada may announce his retirement within the next two weeks. Posada’s departure cuts the Core Four (Andy Pettitte having retired before the start of last season) down to the Dynamic Duo (Mariano Rivera and Lisa’s favorite Yankee, Derek Jeter). Soon, it will just be Jeter that’s left. Serena suddenly feels old.