On Saturday, June 25th, a group of us headed to the Marta station.We were headed to the Atlanta Braves game. They were playing the Mets, and Flo Rida was performing after the game. We were running late, and all I could think about was America and George Costanza.
We got lost, got off of our Midtown train too soon, weren’t sure where we were supposed to go to catch a bus to Turner Field. We were late, but we certainly weren’t alone. We followed other large groups of Braves-clad college students and, after getting directions from a janitor and our semi-Marta savvy friend, we made it to Little Five Points and finally, Turner Field.
One of my friends has a super complicated connection and was able to get us tickets to the game. (Like, she got them from a brother’s girlfriend’s friend’s dad’s business partner’s etc.) The tickets were excellent—we were able to ditch the lines and go in the media entrance—literally the back door.
We had access to the back door and to the Sky Box. Our seats were a section behind home plate, too, the closest I’ve ever been at the Atlanta Braves. Around the fourth inning, we settled in with our overpriced bottles of water and snacks, ready to watch the game.
At one point we migrated to take pictures. I saw a girl who was a year ahead of me from high school, which was really random. We saw Robbie Hayes from season twelve of The Bachelorette. (We took a picture with him and it’s below, don’t worry. I wasn’t about to let my recurring dream of seeing celebrities but not taking pictures with them come to pass…again.) We cheered, we shouted, we laughed. We watched Flo Rida perform after the game had ended in a Braves loss (by one point in the eleventh inning.) We sang and laughed some more.
We were drenched in sweat but fatigued by the good time we had had when it was finally time to leave. We took the bus back to the train station and easily made our way back to Midtown—a place with which we were growing more and more familiar. We stopped by Insomnia cookies on the way back to campus, and the cookies were as warm and delicious as ever.
By the time we made it back and fell into our beds (and showers), we had had an evening full of fun, of new memories, of new and better friends, of stories and cookies and fun. It was the favorite all-American past-time at its finest.