I went to my third baseball game of the season last night, Mets vs. Nationals – it was also my third ballpark. So far I’ve been to Camden Yards, RFK Stadium and whatever you call the park the Phillies play in. I’ll be going to Fenway, Shea, Wrigley, Cleveland and Colorado to catch some games as well this year. Last year I did Shea, Yankee Stadium, Fenway, Camden, RFK, San Francisco, San Diego and Chicago White Sox. I’d love to catch a game in Milwaukee but I really can’t come up with an excuse to visit Milwaukee beyond going to see a baseball game. At least Cleveland has the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Anyway, I guess what I want to say is, LET’S GO FUCKING METS!

Story time…

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Five days.

That’s how much time I had between the day I arrived in Virginia and the day I started work.

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.

Five days to get out and explore our nation’s capital (and its outlying neighborhoods). Five days to meet some new people and see some sites. Five days to sample local restaurants, bars and neighborhoods – try and decide where we wanted to live. Five days to stake my claim, to adjust myself – five days to get comfortable.

I was fucked.

We had no money. We had a credit card with a modest limit that we were using to hold the hundred+ dollar a night hotel room and that’s it.

A 75% relocation advance was mailed to me in Boston; unfortunately it didn’t get there before I moved out. I needed to get TAO to issue me a new check that I picked up my second day in the DC area. I had to open a bank account with that check, because I closed my Bank Boston account before moving. It was going to take a couple of days for the funds to clear – I had a couple of bucks cash on me and that was it.

Robin wasn’t in any better shape – her parents gave her some cash but it was essentially enough to cover really cheap meals for a couple of days.

So whereas we got down there early to explore the area, our limited funds restricted us to packing a book bag with bread and peanut butter and staying close to the hotel. McLean, Virginia, unfortunately, didn’t have a lot to offer a couple of 22 year-old kids excited to be in a new city.

That’s where Tyson’s Mall comes in. It was a fifteen minute walk to get there and we could spend a couple of hours there – slowly walking around and planning what we’ll get for our eventual apartment. Checking out Crate & Barrel and picking out a headboard for our bed – the one piece to a standard bedroom-set we have yet to purchase in the past six years. Why buy a headboard when you can buy a 42-inch plasma HDTV is my motto – priorities.

We’d ask the kiosk guys if we can use their computers to check our email and they almost always agreed – we’d spend a couple of minutes searching online for apartments because we didn’t learn our lesson the first time around.

Dinner at McDonald’s – Robin and I were practicing vegetarians at the time (well, Robin was, and I was trying really hard). French fries, salad cup and a drink of water was the standard dinner for those five days (peanut butter sandwich for lunch, obviously).

The hotel had a bar and we were able to charge up our drinks to the room – no matter how broke we were we always found a way to drink alcohol – I think that’s a universal constant. That first Saturday night we tried to go to the hotel bar but they were having some comedy show and there was a cover – we ended up crossing the Pike and going to Mr. Smith’s where we actually had a decent meal and decided to use the credit card, figuring we’ll deal with the potential “insufficient funds to pay for hotel room” when and if it happens.

We found ways to pass the time – we made up theme songs for each other, for instance. Robin’s was sung to the beat of TALK’S TO ANGELS and went like so:

She never takes the tags off
The clothes that she buys
That’s so she can return them
If the neeeedd arise

She says she talks to sales clerks
About their return policy

Mine was sung to the beat of a generic children’s song:

I’m a sensitive homo erectus, a sensitive homo erectus
I have a hard on all day
I’m a sensitive homo erectus, a sensitive homo erectus
Won’t you come out an play

I’m a sensitive homo erectus, a sensitive homo erectus
I got something I’d like you to touch
I’m a sensitive homo erectus, a sensitive homo erectus
I’m sorry that it isn’t much

Ah…inside jokes. This one isn't tough, though - you see, I tend to always be ready to go.

We made it into DC once. The first time was to go apartment shopping – we took the train to the U Street stop because it was the closest stop to the first apartment we were going to check out – our first exposure to DC was a touch of the ghetto. Now, I have no problems with the ghetto, but when you move to DC everyone reminds you how bad the crime rate is there. You just brush it off, say it’s fine, and you step out of the metro to be surrounded by a touch of ghetto – you get a little worried.

I get a little worried, at least, Robin starts walking faster.

We checked out a couple of apartment in the Adams Morgan area but didn’t settle on anything – we made our way to the Mall and saw the monuments for the first time, fed the ducks with the bread in our backpack. Robin discovered the wonders of the Mall popsicle stands – these Asian guys who sell every popsicle ever made, it seems. I shit you not – I actually purchased one of those WWF cookie/ice-cream pops, shit had to be made in the late 80s. Had Jimmy Superfly Snuka on it. There was no way it wasn’t expired but I ate it anyway – Robin had a Pink Panther popsicle with gumball eyes.

That was really it. Tyson’s Mall, hotel bars, theme songs and one trip into DC. No closer to finding an apartment, no money in the bank. I started work on a Tuesday – ironed my clothes the night before and went to bed early. It was time to start making a living.