One night before the trip, Bryce who drinks Windex woke up and needed some water. Thinking that the container next to him was a bottle of water, he got at least three gulps down before realizing that what he was chugging was, in fact, Windex. Why there was Windex next to his bed (maybe he was cleaning that day?) and how he could have thought it was water will be mysteries until the end of time.

He explained it to me in his own words (via instant messenger) about 10 years ago:

“I had to make a decision — to puke or not to puke. I chose the ladder.”

Yep.

BWDW tore up Washington, D.C.

After our first major haul from Tampa to Atlanta our next stop was Richmond, the home of the Braves’ AAA affiliate. Andy was getting his Braves fix early-on.

We got out of Bryce’s famous “Motel 8” in the heart of the “Dirty-Dirty” and got on the road early.
In the midst of a nine-hour drive and on the heels of an eight-and-a-half hour haul the day before, the control freak in me began to relent. I was tired. I let Andy drive.

I planned on laying down in the back seat and maybe taking a nap. But Andy had other ideas. I love Andy, but he was a terror on that road. The Carolinas never knew what hit them. With NOFX one of the more mellow bands blaring on the stereo, Andy tailgated, passed, yelled at, and generally tormented every Southerner he possibly could.

As we started into the Richmond area, I was riding shotgun and BWDW was in his usual spot in the back seat. Andy had unloaded an ungodly amount of change onto the dashboard and I was trying to navigate. We saw the exit, but there was an exit off of the exit. Andy made a hard right at about 45 a’la Walter Sobjak and the change began to slide.

With the map in my hand, I was a little too late on the draw and about $4.00 in quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies flew across the dashboard flying into the air and/or into my defrost vents.

I hurried to pull as much of the change off the dashboard as possible and, of course, missed the luxury Motel 6 we were scheduled to stay in that night. In the pre-GPS days, we didn’t know that we had passed our hotel, so we kept on going. We found out quickly that there are, in fact, some parts of Richmond travelers like us would rather not be in.

Good times in Richmond! Somehow I was still in a super-happy mood even after my defrost vents were filled with change earlier in the day...

Eventually we regained our bearings, got back almost to the exit we had taken, and saw the Motel 6 on the right hand side of the road, directly across from a neon sign-laden building that advertised itself as the Paper Moon. The Paper Moon seemed like a fine establishment and advertised “Power Hour” from 2-3AM. Again, we weren’t in the greatest part of town, but we were on a budget.

The game in Richmond was interesting for a AAA game. The stark, cold, concrete stadium rose up in two steep tiers and had the capacity for many more fans than it seemed would ever come to a game there.

Highlights from the Richmond Braves game:

1) They played against the Mets AAA team that included former Major League catcher (and all-star) Benito Santiago. At the age of forty-something, Benito was still tooling around the minor leagues. It seemed pretty odd and I can’t say we didn’t heckle him a little about it. Others heckled him even more and in the minor league environment, it looked like Benito was talking directly back at them.

2) There was nearly a brawl — After two or three bean-balls, teams almost came to blows. Good times, good times. I think Benito was in the middle of the brouhaha, too.

3) There was some kind of mascot that had nothing to do with the Braves. He was like a yellow chicken or something. Bryce got friendly with him. BWDW got friendly with a lot of people/things that day and throughout the trip.

The next day, we were all a little sluggish. Despite the drive from Richmond to Baltimore being only 3 hours, we had to get up early because it was a day game for the Orioles vs. the Red Sox. I don’t really remember too much about that day. I think I must have been weary from the traveling. I remember a few things vividly though:

1) Oriole Park at Camden Yards is BEAUTIFUL. What a great place to watch a game. Unless…

2) Unless it is 95 degrees and you are on the top level in left field packed in and crowded around a bunch of sweaty freaking Red Sox fans. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against them, but that day they all seemed so hot and sweaty that I couldn’t help but to be the same. The seats were so far away from the action and, coming off a World Series victory the year before, Red Sox nation basically took over Camden Yards. The heat led to…

3) The first appearance of the phenomenon that became known affectionately as “swamp-ass.” I don’t think I have to explain, but when you’re sitting in a hot plastic seat for more than about nine seconds in the summertime on the East coast, your backside is going to be wet when you stand up. Everyone had it going on and probably everyone was as miserable as we were.

4) The heat also led to the second pair of shorts that Andy ripped. It wouldn’t be the last.
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What do you do when you’re in a strange town and you gotta go. I mean you really have got to go and you don’t even know where a public restroom is, even if you were willing to try it, which (in this case) Andy was not.

The best answer in Baltimore (or any city, for that matter) is to find the nearest large, bustling, nice-looking hotel. I parked the Sierra in the hotel loading zone, as though were were checking-in. Andy hustled into the lobby bathroom and we sat as if waiting for him to check us in.

The nice thing about a bathroom in a lobby of a nice hotel in the middle of the day is that, as long as there isn’t some kind of convention going on, it’s basically the cleanest bathroom you’ll ever find. And as long as you act like you belong, nobody will question you. It’s a fact I’ve proven through years of research.

I think Andy originally named this picture of BWDW "No Regard." I concur.

Fully relieved and with the three-day All-Star Break ahead of us, we decided to try to go crash in Washington, D.C.

BWDW wanted to stay close to the White House. Really close. At a really nice hotel. We were all really tired and the past two nights at the Super 8 in Atlanta and the Motel 6 in Richmond were offset by the Capitol Hilton. Our jaws hit the floor when the lady told us the price.
BWDW pulled out his credit card, cocked his head to the side, and replied cooly, “Charge it to the Game.”
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I will say but a few words regarding our night at the Capitol Hilton. The pictures should do the rest of the work for me.

The first thing is that they must have put us in an empty wing of the hotel. I travel a lot for work and I hate people who even talk too loudly next door. The amount of noise coming out of that room must have been heard 5 rooms over. I feel sorry for anyone who was within 2 floors or 10 rooms of us.
I guess Andy and Bryce must have slept a lot more than I thought during that day’s driving because I was completely wiped out and they were rearing to get their party on.

The lampshade, belt, towel tie/cape... a put-together look to be sure. That hotel room didn't know what hit it. "Charge it to the game."

While I crashed out in the corner of the room, BWDW and Andy began their first round of real shenanigans. With a lampshade secured on his head with someones belt and a cape made of a fine Egyptian cotton towel, BWDW turned into a flying Wallenda. I think the pictures tell the story better than I ever could.

What I will encourage a reader to do is to pay attention to the classy outfit. The “cape,” “tie,” and “lampshade” are all critical elements for a man about town in our nation’s capitol city.

The next day, we visited all of the monuments. On what was the hottest and muggiest day of the trip thus far, we decided to parallel park the truck on the side of the road near the river. Washington, D.C. is really a beautiful place in the summer.

In order to keep luggage safe, we had to move it from the back of the truck to the front each time we parked in a public place. The baggage and the cooler fit in the cab, but we had large pallets of Gatorade and water that we had to leave in the back of the truck.

Upon returning to the truck, the water was still intact, but there was no sign of the Gatorade. We hadn’t left it locked up, but it was still a bit of a shock to see ALL 48 bottles of Gatorade completely gone.

It didn’t take us long to find out where our sports drinks had gone. About 2 miles down the road, at an intersection, there was a man in the median. Instead of selling flowers or newspapers as one might typically find, the guy was selling — you guessed it — Gatorade!

Coming soon: The All Star Break, State College, BWDW vs. the Tree, Bitter B makes an appearance, the Mistake by the Lake, and the Big Apple.

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I was going to call this series, “When bad things happen to good ballparks,” but the trip was bigger than the ballparks alone. Those cities never knew what hit them…

Part One of a four-part series explores the beginnings of just such a trip. Along with three friends, I traveled from Tampa to Boston and back via Cleveland. Eleven games in about 18 days and more shenanigans than you can shake a stick at.

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On a warm Florida Summer day in 2005, on Interstate 75 somewhere between Tampa and Gainesville, the first real sports debate of the long-awaited baseball road trip began. And it wasn’t even about baseball.
“Everyone knows who David Beckham is,” I said. “Unless they live under a freaking rock.”
“No, they do not,” rebutted Andy.
Bryce (who drinks Windex) and I argued with Andy for about thirty minutes. He was David Beckham, he had a movie made about him and was the most well-known athlete in the world. And it was 2005.
The questions was, ‘What percentage of the population in the United States had any idea who he was?’
Through Hernando County, Sumter county, probably other counties, and Ocala, we argued. Andy said less than half. Bryce and I argued that more than half knew who he was.
Having lived in Florida for about two years by then, I knew this was the wrong place for a field test. As we pulled into the McDonald’s off the Interstate, it was apparent that my side of the argument was about to fall flat.
“David who?,” asked the confused and busy McDonald’s employee.
And we were off.

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Even in Alaska, I couldn't help but wear some Dodgers gear.

Between February and May of 2005, I spent what were probably the longest and generally lonliest three months of my life in and around the village of Aniak, Alaska — population (according to Wikipedia) –  of 572.

During my time working in towns like Kalskag, Chuathbaluk, Stony River, Red Devil, Crooked Creek, and other unnamed places, I experienced the best of the Mid-Kuskokwim river.

I rode a snow-machine (snowmobile) to work most days, flew in bush planes, and slept on cots in schools. In many villages, the schools were the only places with running water. Some villages only had 15 or 20 people total.

Living there for an extended period of time seems glamorous or adventurous now — it’s something that people are usually intrigued by. At least it’s something they act intrigued by.

But being in a bubble like a remote bush village for three months isn’t easy. In fact, it’s the kind of place where a person could have a mental breakdown. I became consciously aware of this possibility about three weeks into my 15 weeks in Alaskan wilderness, and in order to avoid such a breakdown, I decided that I needed something to look forward to upon my arrival back in the “lower 48.” That something turned into an East-Coast baseball road trip.

Pregame at the Trop. So lively and rested... Left to Right: Andy, BWDW, Owen

In Alaska, I lived without a lot of things. A half-gallon of milk was $10 at the store. Fresh fruit was nonexistent. One thing I did have was access to email at my work. I fired-off emails to friends from home. I was only 24, so I was still close with many of my high school and college buddies.

Three people responded. Andy Stevens, Bryce, and Bryce.

“Two Bryces?,” you may ask. Yes. Two Bryces. Dos.

For purposes of knowing which Bryce was which, we tagged the Bryce I went to high school with as “Bryce who drinks Windex” (BWDW). The Bryce I went to college with was famously dubbed “Bitter Bryce” (Bitter B, or BB). One more Bryce and the space-time continuum could have been in jeopardy. More on the names for the Bryces later.

Andy and BWDW agreed to fly from California the day after the 4th of July. From July 5th through 24th, we would be on the road — for better or for worse. We would catch up with Bitter B later in the trip.
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Caryn, Jay, and Cody were freinds of mine in Florida. They weren't too sure about Bryce Who Drinks Windex. Given later evidence, I don't know if anyone could blame them...

“I had a job at Tropicana, but they fired me because I couldn’t concentrate.”

As we drove up to Tropicana Field, BWDW couldn’t help himself.

In 2005, the Rays’ stars were Carl Crawford and Rocco Baldelli. They didn’t have much else. Unfortunately for them, the crowds they drew weren’t much bigger than the talent they put out on the field.

Baseball in Tampa Bay is an odd experience. I attended about eight games at the ‘Trop during my time in Florida. Indoor baseball is one of the weirdest experiences a Californian can have. The indoor version of America’s pastime is only available anymore in a handful of places. Of these, Tropicana Field is the only one left that still sports an artificial playing surface.

No wind. No sun. No elements at all. Just a cool, constant 72 degrees. I guess people will do anything to get out of the humid summer days in Florida.

Notes about our visit to 2005 Tropicana Field:

Parking at Tropicana Field was $18. Maybe the Rays’ ownership was taking their cue from a Parking Lot owner named Frank McCourt at the time. Or maybe it just cost too much. I did enjoy how much we were allowed to move around. The first Rays game was also the only game we went to with other people. I think Bryce impressed them as clearly indicated by the look on Cody’s face in the picture above.

This game also marked Bryce’s first of many in the same pair of board shorts (more on that later). Keeping to the “shorts” theme, Andy destroyed a pair of his own when his pocket got caught on the Tropicana Field seat he was sitting in. A loud “Riiiiiiiip!” signified his shorts’ impending exit from the suitcase and into the garbage can.

BWDW loosened up about the third inning and after about four or five (or nine) drinks.

At the end of the first game, we were collectively down a pair of shorts and a small amount of dignity (I’m looking at you, Bryce), but our spirits were high and the collective will was strong.

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The thing about a baseball road trip up the entire East coast, is that driving up the entire East coast TAKES LONGER THAN YOU THINK.

Google Maps lists the drive from Tampa to Atlanta as over 7 hours. It didn’t seem like any less than that and after that first day of driving, I knew that the biggest obstacle to overcome on the road trip would be the time on the road.

On that first travel day, we took our positions in my white 2003 GMC Sierra extended cab truck, and these positions became routine over the next few days. Andy sat in the passenger seat with a map and a caffienated beverage, and Bryce was more or less conscious in the back seat as I drove. It was my truck and yeah, I’m a little nervous when other people ride along as I captain.

Arriving in Atlanta (“the dirty-dirty,” as Bryce was quick to point out), we spent our first hotel night at the Super 8 on Peachtree Street In Atlanta. And if you end up on Peachtree Street, let’s just say this, something is probably wrong.

The Braves game was fun. The Brewers were in town and the game was a close one. I remember three distinct things about Turner Field:

1) The Olympic influence — Turner Field was the center of the 1996 Olympic Summer Games in Atlanta and driving up to the stadium, you could see the influence of the Olympics on the architecture, parking lots, and even the stadium.

2) The Coke Bottles — above the left field wall, high atop the stadium, there is an area where kids can play on a mini field. It was a really interesting view of the game from up there. Upon closer examination of the towering Coke bottles in the area, I could see they were made of baseballs painted to match the colors of a Coke bottle. Coke is so big in Atlanta that Pepsi basically doesn’t exist there, and the huge Coke bottle in Turner Field is a reflection of that.

3) The game — On a hot, muggy, summer night in Atlanta, the game came down to the bottom of the ninth inning. The circumstances are still hazy, but I know that the Braves had a walk-off hit to end the game.

Andy had grown up a Braves fan, watching them on TBS, and I felt good that the Braves got him a win in his first trip to Turner Field.

The most memorable moment in Atlanta, though, came in the taxi on the way back to the Super 8. And, like many memorable moments, it came thanks to Bryce (Who drinks Windex).

Apparently there was a Christian Women’s convention downtown. For whatever reason our cab took us back near many of the big hotels and right up along side the convention center. Bryce was in the middle, but somehow managed to quickly roll the window down to spit his game.

There were no pictures of the "Motel 8" (which, incidentally, isn't a hotel that exists), so you'll have to be satisfied with this upper-deck view of Turner Field.

“Motel 8! Room 206! Roll 10 deep!” was all he managed to blurt out before our cab pulled away.

Incidentally, they didn’t “Roll ten deep.” Much to Bryce’s chagrin, they actually rolled zero deep. Apparently, the combination of the Super 8 and a guy as dapper and classy as BWDW somehow did not attract the attendees at the Christian women’s convention… Go figure.

Still to come: our adventure continues to Richmond, Virginia, The Paper Moon, Sweaty Red Sox fans, Swamp-Ass, and the Capitol Hill Shenanigans.

Photo gallery of Alaska and the first few days of the Trip.

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