Scorched on Father’s Day

Went to the Phillies game yesterday – Father’s Day – and we got scorched worse than they did.

The “we” being my favorite son Ed Bowe, my favorite grandson Zack Bowe, and myself.

We had a great time.

Ubered

We Ubered to Citizens Bank Park – my first ride. Got picked up at the door in South Philly within three minutes. Took less than ten minutes to travel the two miles and get dropped off at the main entrance to the ballpark. Cost us chump change – $ 7.87 – plus I tipped the driver a five-spot.

Walking’s a pain in the ass for me anymore. So I was delighted to find a Phillies golf-cart driver who drove us from the main entrance to the left-field gate. Offered him a five-spot – but he refused to take it.

Set off the metal detector at the turnstiles – but not because I was packing heat. Left my 9 mm Ruger at home because I knew it was taboo. No, it was my Titanium hips that set off the alarm.

“Hip Replacements,” I told the attendant.

He nodded and waved me through – without strip-searching me like they do at the airport.

Got my giveaway Hawaiian shirt – Large – and had no trouble exchanging it for an XL at a hospitality table a few steps away. Been a good fifty years since I fit into a Large.

Plenty of good hospitality on the part of the Phillies employees and plenty of excitement in the air because a good portion of the 40,000-or-so fans were fathers in a wide range of ages – most accompanied by their children and/or grandchildren.

We had a good half-hour to kill – so I got a hot dog. It looked more like sausage and tasted like crap – but I ate it anyway. And washed it down with an ice-cold can of Stella – for $9.75 – which cost more than our ride. But that was my last beer at the ballpark. From there on out, it was water – and plenty of it.

Good News – Bad News

We had good seats in left field, lower level, nine rows deep. That’s the good news. The bad news is: we sat in the sun. Make that the scorching sun.

Pleasant spells came few and far between – whenever the clouds masked the sun and the breeze kicked up at the same time. So I retreated into the shade in the concourse on three occasions. No way I’m going to fall victim because I don’t have the sense to come in out of the heat.

The Phillies lost 5-1 – but three generations of Bowes had a great time anyway.

We Ubered home from the ballpark – seven minutes to travel those two miles this time and the trip cost just $6.01. Of course I tipped the driver five bucks. You see, I tip people who perform services for me. I believe that’s called generosity – perhaps karma.

Add it up and the door-to-door service – including tips – cost about the same as parking at the stadium – and there was minimal walking involved.

Once back in the cooling comfort of air-conditioning, my favorite son and I drank commemorative beers to celebrate Father’s Day – 2Xs for me & a Bud for Ed. The kid was gone by then – on his way to the Jersey shore to do some surfing.

In addition to being the official Eagles Outsider for BlameMyFather.com, Barry Bowe is also the author of: