As if to say, "oh I missed you, dear", LA has been very good w/ supplying at least one bout of heavy traffic whilst I'm in it's mist as of late. It's as if it's saying, "oh, please don't go; you know we can make you stay."
The city from Chavez Ravine, aka, Dodger Stadium.
A panorama of our rather nice seats. Rolin did a boss job scoring these.
Mmmmm...Dodger Dog. But hey, at least it's Kosher! And of course I spilt a big ol' smack down of mustard in the one spot of my lap that the napkin wasn't covering. At least it wasn't ketchup, I guess. Don't need to wander around the park w/ red crotch stains.
Becca is always good about honoring the old time Cracker Jacks, but how their prizes have gotten lame. While the little talking crabby was kind of cute, a piece of colored paper as a prize is just a smidge anti-climatic. So we fed him a jalapeno.
The tiny foam finger the guy in front of us kept wearing kept cracking me up. He got it from the Miller girls that were wandering the hallways, enticing random males to take the little hands.
Representing in my Tigers hat, I kept being told by random employees that I was two days early for the game. They had a special Star Wars night for when the Tigers were there. I watched it on the tv in OB and Chewbacca threw the opening pitch. It was sweet.
You can just barely make out Yoda's head in the upper left.
The Padres ended up creaming the Dodgers 10-5 because of two home runs, one w/ bases loaded. Here's the final sprint to home.
Half moon over the stadium.
A final look of the score. There was no "I Love LA" heard that night.
And the city at night as we wandered out.
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