I really must be nuts. I'm getting over a cold, I have a right calf strain, I worked 13 hours on Friday. And now I got up at 3 a.m. on Saturday to get one of the last seats on this airplane from Norfolk to Charlotte to get through to Cincinnati. It's my only 7 Line Army game this season though I sat near them in DC.
I landed in Cincinnati and had to wait 25 minutes for the hotel shuttle to pick me up. Once I arrived at the local Holiday Inn, I couldn't check in because every room was occupied. So I left my luggage with the front desk and ordered an Uber to get down, since there's no public transportation to get to downtown Cincinnati from the airport. I got picked up by a Steelers fan and we had a great chat about football and his brother, who's also a Jets fan.
I got dropped off at Carew Tower and I had to walk through two passageways, take two elevators, and a stairway to reach the observatory deck. The attendant told me my breath would be taken away, and it was, although I think it had more to do with that I was 48 stories up with a ledge that came up to my chest. Nonetheless I had views of the offices of Great American insurance, Macy's, Fifth Third Bank, PNC, and others. But after ten minutes up there, I was ready to go.
Lunch time. It was off to Fiery Hen for some Nashville style hot fried chicken. The walk there wasn't too fun, I passed several homeless folks, a jerk playing loud hip hop, and numerous whitewashed window store fronts. It felt like an expanded downtown Newport News. Anyway, when I saw they had Three Floyd's Gumballhead on top, I had to get a draft. The iced tea was put on hold. I would have loved a Zombie Dust, but I was still very happy to drink the best wheat beer I've ever had. I ordered half a chicken, but the question was the spice level that I'd select. They had six levels and I wanted spice without tears steaming down my face. I went with the 3rd hottest, the Nashville hot. I have to admit it was really spicy. The skin was super crispy, the chicken was juicy, cooked really great. It was served on a piece of white bread that I did nothing with since it became drenched in the hot sauce. I mean I know bread is supposed to be absorb heat, but when it becomes soaked in hot sauce...But besides the chicken, they had a great slaw with kale and Brussels sprouts. Not too creamy, thankfully. The cornbread, on the other hand, was pretty dense, it tasted more like bread without that real corn flavor. So I didn't care for it much.
From there, with my mouth still burning a little, I walked south on Vine St towards Oktoberfest. I didn't even know Oktoberfest was going on, but that explained why the downtown hotels were charging $300 and $400 a pop. I walked past many stands serving pretzels, beer, brats, and past two polka bands, and went into the Underground Railroad Freedom Museum. The theater presentations were very informative and the slave den replica was pretty good. But for $15, it was an ok museum. Lots of history, but only so many artifacts to go around. It felt like waking through a history class, but there weren't many opportunities to interact with the exhibits.
Time for the purpose of the trip. Mets baseball. I walked across one of the bridges into Newport, KY and joined nearly a thousand other Mets fans at Hofbrahaus. The atmosphere was so upbeat and energetic, even though the chances of making the playoffs are really slim. I didn't even mind spending fifteen bucks for a beer. Even if it was a decidedly average lager.
A thousand strong wearing blue shirts walked back over another bridge into downtown Cincinnati, then turned left onto Pete Rose Way to arrive at Great American Ballpark. Our seats were in the left field corner. I have to give the town credit, their fans showed up. Certainly wasn't a sellout, but there were at least 30,000 people. But with us in attendance and the need to win every day, I actually felt confident they were going to win. After the top of the first inning, I knew they were in trouble. Nimmo, McNeill, and Alonso were set down quickly and the Reds loaded the bases with nobody out. They scored two and I just had a sinking feeling.
I left my seat for good after the first inning. For two reasons. One, the game felt like it would finish bad. Two, I was going to bake in that sun since I didn't have sunscreen. There was a large charging station area behind my section so I parked myself there. Most of the Reds fans were friendly and curious who we were, maybe two or three pricks.
Also, bad concession options. No lemonade. Five dollars for a small bottle of water. There was Graters ice cream.. and all four flavors had chocolate. How about some freaking vanilla? At least they had Nathan's hot dogs. The organization also respects their history. I saw statues of Johnny Bench, Tony Perez, Joe Nuxhall, Ernie Lombardi, and Frank Robinson. Maybe I missed it, but I don't know how they're missing Pete Rose.
So after a disgusting, heartbreaking loss, I waited 25 minutes for a streetcar. Oh on a sidenote, the public transportation in that city sucks. Few options, little ground covered, long waits, huge crowds. But here's what blew me away. Only three buses a day from the airport to downtown. Three!
Anyway, after being on my feet for most of the last five hours, I managed to score a seat, surrounded by Oktoberfest drunks, people wearing that ugly Red, and a bachelorette party, though they were all in their 50s. I made sure to avoid all eye contact. I took the car to Taft's, wanting to try their beer and tri tip. Sadly, the kitchen was closed, it was just too backed up apparently. So I began drinking, going with the flight. My favorites were the key lime Caribbean lager and the Verdict No. 5, a juicy IPA. But all five were enjoyable, well crafted. I even chatted with a married couple at the bar, the guy was really knowledgeable about the beer and helped me decide my flight. I hung there for an hour but I needed some grub, I hadn't eaten in eight hours. The bartenders had a few recommendations, but they mentioned Bakersfield tacos, a place that had been on my radar.
I walked four blocks south and one block east, and And it was a young attractive clientele, thank God I can still kinda fit in there.
I walked four blocks south and one block east, and And it was a young attractive clientele, thank God I can still kinda fit in there.
After cursing out one asshole Reds fan on the street, I grabbed a Lyft back to the hotel. I checked in finally... and I didn't have my bathroom bag. My body was so exhausted after being awake for 20 straight hours, my feet and calves were almost shot.
But Jessica at the front desk was so ridiculously kind, giving me a bathroom supply kit and a voucher for a free glass of wine at the bar. I was hoping she would join me (for a drink), but that was out of the question, I couldn't ask. After my drink, I even chatted with a young, kinda pretty bellhop who saw my Mets shirt and asked what the story was. We talked about travel for maybe 5 minutes but she had to get back to work. I left her with a kiss on the cheek. Back to my room for some music and it was bedtime.
I woke up the next day at 5 a.m.... and went back to sleep immediately. Up again at 6... back to sleep. Finally at 6:30, I got up and decided to check my flights. I wad planning on connecting through Chicago, but I was going to have a huge layover. I longed at the schedule and my heart started racing. I realized my first plane left at 7:50, not 8:10, the latter was actually my landing time in Chicago. I had overslept. So with no shower I dressed and stormed downstairs. Thankfully, the shuttle arrived within five minutes, and check in at the airport went pretty quick. So while there were a lot of people in security, there were maybe six lines, so it moved quickly. In truth, I wasn't panicking. I knew I'd eventually get home, it was just a matter of how late. I got through security, even with security going through my backpack. I ran down the escalator and boarded the monorail which was waiting on me and got to my gate with everyone already boarded. I think I made it by ten minutes.
After landing, I took the blue line to downtown Chicago and connected to the brown line going north. I attended service at Moody Church. Even though it was never my home church, I like the old school feeling in that classic brick building. Pipe organ, orchestra, choir, guitars, and drums. I wish there were more worship styles like that in more churches.
One of the smartest things I did was download an app that allowed me to track where every bus and train were located. It helped me know when to take my time and when to rush. I took the 22 bus south on Clark to Portillo's, for old times sake. My order was simple: big beef with sweet peppers, hot peppers, and cheddar cheese. As the beef juices ran through my hands, I heard angels singing. With so few tables available, a mother and son on vacation from Rhode Island joined me. I gave them some trip tips and headed on my way.
Back to the 22 bus, this time going north to the Country Club. I wanted to see my fellow Jets fans. Now they were playing in Foxboro, so I had no desire to watch. I couldn't stay long anyway because I had to get back to the airport. Not for a flight, that wasn't happening for another 5 hours. I had a girl to meet. I'd been chatting on and off with this woman for over a year and we'd talked on the phone maybe a handful of times. Well two days prior, she just happened to be connecting through Chicago as well. Her flight on United was leaving at 3:50 so I had to move fast. I ended up taking a bus west to the Addison stop on the blue line to take the train six stops to the airport. Since she was flying United, I went straight to Terminal 1. One problem...wrong terminal. It turns out she was at Gate F26 and that was Terminal 2.
I got through security and despite my bad calf, jogged to F26. I made it there by 2:30 so after a year, I got to meet Katie. We talked for an hour about our travels, friends, personalities, etc. It was a really good connection, but I can't see myself dating a woman with five kids.
Once she left, I walked over to the mini sized Admirals Club. Had to have my free guacamole.
