I took the chicken, and we washed it all down with Coke and cocaine. Our tolerance was back, so we were partying like the elderly — on the verge of death every second. Yeah, the days of puking on movie theater bathroom floors were behind us. This blog was originally published at Go Gonzo Journal. It gave me time to take a dip in the outdoor pool, which was quick because it was cold as ice. He opened the door with his shorts around his ankles and a roll of toilet paper in his hand.
We got ourselves cleaned up, filled the Skoal can with cocaine, and made our way to Target Field after a stop at Walmart for Sharpies. We both brought a few things to sign just in case we got some facetime with an All-Star. My attorney had a ball given to him by Mike Trout, and I brought a Derek Jeter rookie card I got in a trade with my sister a long time ago. We parked far enough away from Target Field to give ourselves a sobering walk after the game.
We picked up cigarettes, which we were smoking faster than Johnny Cueto throws. It seems every time we did a line we had to smoke two cigarettes — one to dip in cocaine and smoke and another to wash it down. We were rocking Parliaments, so we could do bumps out of the filters, too. We asked a few scalpers what tickets were going for, and it was around face value, depending on seat location.
The day we bought our tickets people were listing them on Ebay and Craigslist for three times face value, but we should have known better. At least we knew the place would be packed. We finished our beers and made our way through the plaza to the field.
My attorney went down to our seats and bought beers while I waited for my camera bag to be searched. I made the slow trip to our seats on the third base side, and being just eight rows from the field, the first few rows of our section were double-stacked with fans hoping to get an autograph from the National League All-Stars warming up in front of us.
