In 1991, My girlfriend and I were living in Valencia, California. I was editing in Hollywood and working as a grip all over the valley. Every time I wanted to go anywhere it took an hour, and I mean anywhere. Some trips were understandable and easily accepted like a visit to In-N-Out Burger. Just mentioning that place makes me quiver and I’d go on record right now if they ever want to franchise on the east coast, I’m in! If you’ve ever had a Double Double animal style and hand towel dried fries, you’d understand my motivation.
Freeways are everywhere and stretch for hundreds of miles. In LA county alone there are 515 miles of multi-lane parking lots. It is also a state law that you have to live at least 75 miles away from where you work. To get to work in Hollywood I took the 14, to the 5, to the 101 to the Vine street exit. Yes, that Hollywood and Vine. Normally, this was a 38-minute drive tops, but nothing is normal in LA, so it took anywhere from 2 hours to three days. However, I just heard that the Orioles were coming to town and that meant road trip to Anaheim.
My time on the left coast was before interleague play was a thing, so my Orioles only visited one or two times a year. These games trumped anything else on the calendar such as weddings, funerals and bowling dates and were looked forward to with childhood sleepover giddiness. A friend of mine from WJZ-TV in Baltimore came to visit and I took her to a few job interviews where she was immediately hired by the local ABC affiliate. I think her beautiful red hair had something to do with it, except maybe for her amazing journalistic talent. Margaret was originally from Philadelphia, but became an Oriole fan because of her love of crab cakes. I’m sorry, but a gift from the Chesapeake Bay versus cheese wiz isn’t even a contest. She was on board so Kate and I loaded the car like we were going on a week’s vacation and headed for Orange County.
I owned plenty of Oriole’s swag, so we all decked out in orange and black and made our way into the sea of red and white at Anaheim Stadium. The atmosphere was just what I expected, and the other Oriole fans didn’t disappoint. As soon as “Oh” was heard in the middle of the national anthem, I knew it was going to be a great night. The looks on ancillary Angel’s fan’s faces were hilarious as the Baltimore staple was yelled. Since the anthem was written in Baltimore, fans feel they have the god given right to scream “OH” near the end of the song and I agree. If you attend a game at Camden Yards, the most beautiful park in the country, you will notice that the singers will actually pause for the crowd to yell, before continuing. I am very patriotic, but it makes me laugh every time.
The O’s lost the game, but Cal Ripken had a double and Mike Devereaux banged out two hits. The date was May 5th, which happened to be my birthday. Cinco de Mayo in California is something everyone should celebrate and they do. The only negative moment I remember was when Margaret went looking for a crab cake and came back with a steak sandwich completely oozing with cheese wiz. In retaliation, we stopped for a Double Double on the way home.
