Last week, I went to the US Open in New York. It's the one athletic event that I always wanted to see, and it lived up to the bill. Do you ever have an evening where you feel like destiny has put you on a one-way track to Amazingville? That's how my night was at the US Open.
The start of the night wasn't perfect. We were all in shorts and t-shirts, having been at the stadium all day during the heat. Normally, shorts and a t-shirt is just fine on a summer night, but this particular night found me seated on the very highest row of the biggest stadium there in particularly drafty weather. (Fortunately, we were able to devise a rotating system involving souveneir t-shirts and an extra women's jacket that kept things tolerable. I don't think anyone will claim that our clothing rotation system had us looking particularly stylin', though.)
Along with the fact that the highest row in the stadium is a little chilly, it's also, well, really high up there. I felt like I needed a Sherpa and a sturdy yak to reach the summit of Arthur Ashe Stadium. The view was great, but I was worried that a strong sneeze would knock me over the rail and splatter me all over Roger Federer's bodyguard. Summary: I couldn't see or hear that well, I was slowly succumbing to hypothermia, and Venus Williams refused to play the game of tennis and send her opponent back to her butter-churning dayjob in Latvia.
Then, when things were looking unfortunate, someone voiced the thought, "Hey, I bet we could move closer to the court for the Andy Roddick match." That's what we did. We got as close as we could get there in the upper tier, and then we decided to get brazen and move into the lower section.
We soon learned that we didn't have to particularly sneaky to get close to the court; the Richie Richies down in the lower section all left early and so we were pressed into duty as seat-fillers. On the way down to our new, ultra-great seats, we bumped into Christie Brinkley. (I tell you, friends, she is a living testament to superior genetics. That woman is looking alright.) After our giggle session with Christie, we found our new seats, where Andy Roddick easily could've bludgeoned to death with his serve. It would've taken some stretching, but I could've given him a wet willie; that's how close we were. After Andy finished demoralizing his opponent, we stand up to leave the grounds and go home, and who's right there? Why, it's David Robinson and he's giving out high fives. All of that craziness took place in the span of 45 minutes.
There's a lot more to the trip, like the musical comedy we saw aimed at senior citizens and the Aussie guy who turned into the James Bond of beer thievery. I'll save all of that for later, though. In the meantime, here are the pics and whatnot of the trip.
Also, lookie lookie, I made a new thingee called insultabot.com. Create strange, random insults and use them to enrage everyone on Twitter.
Posted by Cody at September 8, 2009 7:45 PM