On September 10, 2001, I went to the Yankees game. But the weather didn't cooperate and the game wound up being rained out. We got soaked, and while we were waiting, I ran into an ex-girlfriend at the Stadium. We had what I would consider a polite conversation that was full of subtext, the subtext being that she's a dirty, disgusting whore and I'll hate her for the rest of my life.

After they officially canceled the game, which they probably could have done hours before and saved me the hassle of bumping into and having to speak to a dirty, disgusting whore, we took the train home and I burned inside. All I was expecting to do that night was enjoy myself at a baseball game, and instead ... well, I had to talk to a whore. And a dirty, disgusting one at that.

We get home and I'm still pissed off. I go to sleep and I'm still pissed off. I wake up the next morning, and wouldn't you know, I'm STILL pissed off. It's not often that something has such a profound effect on me, but this was a tumultuous* time in my life, and it didn't take much to knock me off of my game. As opposed to now, when I get knocked off my game by the fact that Lee jeans actually uses a Cars song to try to sell their product.

*Does that word really have four U's in it?

But all of the sudden, around 8:48 AM, I wasn't pissed off anymore. All of the sudden, it didn't seem to matter that I'd bumped into a dirty, disgusting whore at the ballgame the night before. All of the sudden, nothing seemed to matter at all.

It's one of the reasons the drinking became heavier, and that's the absolute reason that the sobriety was suggested. And frankly, it's the reason that I am who I am today: a kind of pudgy, mostly happy jerk.

And to those who lost their lives, we still miss you and we still remember you.

Labels: memories