Beasts from the East.

My wife, brother and I took my Dad to the Twins game last evening for his birthday.

We left after the 11th inning with the score tied 5-5. Wouldn’t ya know it the Twins would go on to beat the Baltimore Orioles in the 12th on a Justin Morneau homer. One of the most exciting plays of a baseball game is a “walk off” home run and we missed it.

Now, let me get to why we left early. For the entire game there were three drunken buffoons sitting directly behind us.

That’s OK.

They were rooting for the Orioles.

Again, not a problem.

All three are residents of New Jersey with a sheer disdain for the state of Minnesota.

No skin off my Ashtabula. If asked about what I think of Jersey I would reply that I would rather light my remaining eight hairs on fire than reside there.

But that’s me.

While continually insulting our state and obnoxiously spouting profanity, my wife had finally had enough when one of the inebriated idiots declared “The best thing about being from the east coast is we get to leave Minnesota.”

To which, my gal replied with a sweet smile, “I’ll buy you a bus ticket.”

I think he replied with some incoherent statement like “We’ll I’ll move into your house and throw you out.”

Yes, when it gets to the point where I envision myself crushing someone’s skull with my cell phone, it’s about time to depart. So we did, peacefully.


Memo to the belligerent jackass wearing the orange shirt, Orioles cap and sitting in Section 132, Row 9 at the Metrodome last evening:

I didn’t get too upset that you spilled a little beer on my Dad and brother. Accidents happen, especially when you try to carry two cups of beer while schnockered.

I didn’t care one iota that you mocked my enthusiasm for the home team. I paid good money for those seats. I was going to have some mindless fun.

But if you so much as look cross-eyed at my wife…..?

Well, just keep your sorry rear in New Jersey and we won’t have anymore problems.

That is all.