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Cleveland Rocks the Home Opener

The sun is shining as thousands of baseball fans make their way to Progressive Field for the Indians’ home opener. After purchasing the overpriced but necessary snacks, my sister, dad, mom and I head up to our seats.

And up.

And up.         

We are in the absolute last section of the stadium.

Row X right behind home plate.

Normally, these would be excellent seats: great view, minimal disturbance, constant breeze.

Today, however, these are the worst possible seats one can imagine.

It is a bone-shaking 30 degrees in the shade of row X.

Normally this would not be something to complain about. After all, when was the last time it was even bearable to go to a home opener in Cleveland? But, because of the sunshine, none of us are prepared, which makes the temperature even more miserable.

We suffer through the first three innings before my sister and I can’t take it anymore and decide to take a walk and get some nachos.

Bad idea.

It has been a year since my last experience at Progressive Field. I am out of practice. I have forgotten where the best food stands are. Plus, they moved everything around. You can only get nachos at specific stands, which are placed sporadically around the stadium. I could have sworn finding cheesy goodness was not this much of an issue before.

After battling through the crowds to get in line, having a drunken girl in mini-shorts and high heels fall into me, and having my toes stepped on multiple times by the large man in front of me (sporting a Texas shirt none-the-less) we finally receive our nachos.

For those of you who are not familiar with these particular nachos: They are totally worth the wait.

Two innings later, Maria and I finally arrive back in our seats and struggle to control our shaking fingers to dip our chips in cheese and salsa.

In the seventh inning, even my parents cannot handle the cold anymore, so we grab our stuff and head for sunnier pastures. On the other side of the park, it feels like July. People are wearing t-shirts and shorts. We find a seat and bask in the warmth of the sunshine.

Our euphoria is cut short, however, when we realize we have chosen to sit in front of the most obnoxious staple of any sporting event: these hammered guys who are too old to be drunk at a sporting event and think they are a hilarious bunch.

“Hey! If you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself?!” comes blasting into my sunshine-induced high and brings me down immediately.

Comments such as these continue throughout the entire game until the obnoxious know-alls are kind enough to leave when they realize beer is no longer being sold.

Despite the freezing temperature, drunken idiots, and loss to Texas opening day was a success this year.

So, break out your favorite jersey. It is officially baseball season in Cleveland.