A portion of the tribe was voluntarily resettled to the east coast early this month.  No gub’mint mandated migration this time, though there are some travel tales to tell.  Three hookworms latched onto an airline employee to scavenge cheap seats in order to root for the Sounders against DC United in the US Open Cup final.

 

Dave, Marty and I were led step-by-step by Kelly through a couple of quick flight switches to our nation’s capital.  Our departure to Chicago became a trip to Denver and from there we went to Baltimore rather than getting bumped from a trip to Reagan airport.  Luckily for us she has both connections (pun intended) and an in-depth knowledge of United’s antiquated software.  She took us into a secret bat-cave like room and was able to log into a Commodore 64 to check flight statuses and thus plan our maneuvers.

 

A couple of flights (first class for some of us) and a train or two found us in Virginia – the jumping off spot for the match.  We spent the day sight-seeing and celebrating Dave's birthday.  I won’t bore you with too many details, but I have to share this one.  Marty wanted to take a photo on the steps on the Supreme Court building holding up the Sounders flag in a mock demonstration.  Dave joked that you wouldn’t be able to do that sort of thing in China.  You can’t do it here either.  The security guard kicked us out and said we had to be on the sidewalk (we would have been fine without the flag by the way).  So we tucked out tails and retreated fifteen feet back to where our rights were valid.  I asked another tourist to take a shot of all of us with the flag and we talked to him for just a minute.  Turns out he WAS from China and was amazed that we didn’t have a freedom of expression at the Supreme Court.

 

After that we made our way to the Hawk and Dove pub (not Haggen Daz as I kept hearing) for the first real meal of the day and the first of quite a few beers.  These were mystery beers however, as the waitress couldn’t remember what we ordered and what she poured.  Two doors down was another bar with a DC United flag and banner so we took a little ribbing from a couple of people walking by.  At least they knew to heckle us and not to think we were rooting for XBOX, since we were all wearing jerseys.  We then met up with the Emerald City Supporters, along with Marty's brother Chris and his friend Joe, at another bar and started learning the songs between chanting at the odd United fan who wandered our way.

 

The game was played at RFK which, as far as I can tell, is a toilet for birds.  The good people of their front office charged us fifty percent more than the home town fans for the pleasure of sitting across the street from the stadium.  That’s not true, if it were I wouldn’t have had to burn my shoes.  They stuck us way, way, way up in the top and in the corner.  There was plenty, plenty of room for us below.  I will give them a small benefit of the doubt in thinking they wanted to separate us in order to avoid conflict amongst the fans.  I doubt it.  They were probably just sticking the knife in as much as possible.  On the plus side, there  were two-dollar beers.  But they were three levels down and tasted like crap.  It was all I could do to drink them.  To further insult us they turned the lights off in the restrooms prior to half-time.  Undaunted I used it anyway.  I may have found the urinal, I don’t know for sure.  But that’s OK, a little pee is nothing compared to what was on our seats and, well everywhere you would have wanted to step.  It’s a good thing we stand during Sounders’ games because the upper level was caked in guano.  It was disgusting.  They place obviously hadn’t been cleaned in a good, long while.  In addition to the droppings there were plants growing in some of the cracks.  I don’t know if they were weeds or trees, but something had taken root and was flourishing.  There was a blogger there from the Washington Post and some of us are quoted by him:

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/dcsportsbog/2009/09/sounders_fans_take_on_dc.html

 

Despite the surroundings the Seattle faithful (about 200 up top with a smattering below) had a great time.  Perhaps it was because the team played its’ best game in about a month.  During the first half there were four or five chances that could very well have been goals.  They did give up a number of fouls about twenty-five yards out, so they were fortunate not to give up a couple as well.  So going into the half the Sounders probably should have been leading.  Marty and I discussed leading the entire group in a conga line to the other end of the stadium so we could have the Sounders coming at us again.  There were plenty of seats available, but we had the feeling the security guards would have squelched that plan.  At the half a DC fan with his face painted came up looking to meet and get a

 photo with some Seattle fans.  The security guard (who was a great guy, I talked to him a couple of times) told the DC fan that he was sorry, but if he didn’t have a ticket for that section he’d have to leave.  By the way, our tickets were never checked so we should have bought one for $12.  Anyway Marty and I told him we’d go out in the hall and take a couple of photos.  He called himself Darth Hooligan and had been written about in the local papers.  Funny guy.  He carried a toy light saber so Marty used his flag pole for a sword fight picture.

 

When the Sounders scored the first goal the enthusiasm manifested itself in fully-clad streak.  Marty grabbed a flag and started a beer-induced “victory lap” around the upper bowl.  Being just as stupid/tipsy, I followed.  As we came down the backstretch I looked down to see hundreds of DC fans giving us the double bird.  We both returned single-handed salutes in the same vein.  Our other hand was holding a flag aloft, and that arm was sore by the time we got back.  At the end of the lap the security guard stopped me.  He shook my hand and told me that he appreciated our exuberance, but not to do it again.  Between wheezes I thanked him and said I wouldn’t be able to, even if I wanted to.  Again, he was a good guy.  He even told me he was impressed with how much our group got the floor bouncing.

 

After the match, make that glorious, cup-claiming win, we were told to stay put because we were going to be escorted out en-masse for our own protection.  That was thoughtful, but unnecessary.  We were yelled at from afar and shown the bird but that’s to be expected.  After the cup was given to the team someone spotted the players hanging out in the corner signing autographs.  So we sherpa’d our way down off the peak and found our way to the players.  Kelly got up close and personal with Freddie Ljungberg, and secured a few signatures.  I found a small  DC United flag abandoned by a shamed-faced local and claimed it as a war trophy.

Coming home was more of the same.  Chaos.  If you know me you can probably guess that standby does not fit my personality.  It's too up in the air, and I am far to anal to be comfortable with that sort of loosey-goosiness.  But I was far more calm than I could have ever guessed.  I must be maturing or something.  Probably something.  Anyway, on the way back there was a non-stop flight straight to Seattle.  That beat the hell out of some of the other options, which included Portland and a car rental, San Francisco and a night on the town.  Though that would be appealing if not for a need to get back to work.  Well the chances of there being four spare seats on the flight were slim but we sat and hoped.  Dave spotted a Duncan Donuts down the hall and devised a backup plan.  No flight meant donuts.  The final boarding call came and someone wasn't there. One of us could go home.  Not Kelly though, she would have to lead her other sheep.  So I was voted off the island and sent on my way with a handshake and a note about the bus numbers I would have to catch to get back to Marty's house and my car.

We all made it home, eventually.  I had the non-stop and work the next day, they had a night in San Fransisco.  

I do have to share one more story about my time in FIRST CLASS.  Having never been there before I made up all kinds of lies to tell Marty afterwards.  He could have had the seat, it was even in his name.  But Kelly let us decide which two would get the perks, we gave one to Dave 'cause it was his birthday but Marty and I had to decide the other.  Kelly had been there before so she declined, that left Marty and I saying "after your, no you go" simultaneously.  I blinked first, I decided he had had enough time to take it so I snatched the ticket out of his hand and took my seat 1A for myself.  I kidded him about foot massages and jokes about the riff-raff in the back.  Then I told him the very best part was when I was asked "Will you be having breakfast with us, Mr. Walz?"  I turned down the omelet but did avail myself to the fresh croissants knowing full well he got nothing.