The Marlins Opener and the Curse

As I drove past Marlins Park on Friday, after fetching D2 at MIA, I decided I wanted to go to the season opener. I knew it was sold out, but also that I could get tickets from StubHub. The game was at 4, and I messaged my friends Mike, Norman, Eric, and Barry to see if there was any interest. Norman was already planning to go with his foreign brother in law -- he's Canadian -- and Barry and Eric had perverted priorities of taking care of sick patients. Mike, like me always amenable to playing hookey from work, agreed. I drove to his office, and decided to use the Intercontinental Hotel for a pre game pee, and I ran into Ian, one of my original Truluck's bartenders. Ian had moved up to assitant manager, and then left. Alas, he was working all this time for Michael's Genuine, and now was being hired as Assistant Manager at a steak place in the Intercontonental. He invited me to visit for free drinks -- I plan to take him up on his offer. Mike and I took the Overtown shortcut to the stadium, and looked for house parking, as we did for many years at the Orange Bowl. Being savvy, we only were interested in "No blocky," which any gringo fan of the Fins and Canes remembers means that your car will NOT be blocked in by others, so you don't have to wait for the caprice of the guy in the last car before you can leave. I was caught once this way, and it was a Fins Monday Night game. My bad luck had my Firebird behind a guy in a Benz, who stayed behind well after the game ended. My protests to the house owner were met by a shut tight house, with the inhabitants sitting inside, I'm sure, giving me the finger and laughing at the naive gringo... Anyway, the owner promised me, and Mike and I walked the half block to the stadium, where we drank vokda (me) and margaritas (him) and saw baseball history. The roof of the stadium was open, and the day was sunny, but after the second inning a squall blew in and it poured. We witnessed the first rain delay in a roofed stadium --it took 15 minutes for the roof to close. The visiting NY Mets fans next to me whined "But now it's too HOT!" It really wasn't. Mets fans are the biggest whiners in the League. I'm glad I'm not one of them anymore! Play resumed, and it was a great game -- though the Fish had bases loaded with no outs in the 7th inning and stranded all runners. The Fish lost 2-1. But we were still glad we went -- a lovely afternoon of baseball and alcohol... We walked to the the lot, and DAMN! Sure enough, there was a Jaguar parked behind me, blocking me in! I looked around, and sure enough -- bars on the duplex's windows -- no sign of life. Mike and I had been scammed again -- just like it was still 1985! There was no sign of the Jag owner, and I started to really worry. Marlins PArk has a Clevelander Bar, and for all I knew this guy was planning to drink the night away with the scantily clad table dancers. I decided to at least vent my frustration. I got a piece of paper and wrote on it: "You promised no blocking. You lied. I have put a Palo curse on all in this house. You lose." Palo is the most sinister form of Santeria, or Cuban Black Magic, and I figured at least I would scare the scammers, if they were superstitious. Even educated Cuban friends of mine are known to completely freak out if they find a cut up dollar bill with pennies on their doorstep. I figured this would have the same effect. I slid the note onto the porch, through the bars. But then -- the door opened! The man read it, and got a sad look on his face. "De car is mine -- you just had to ask me to move it!" He came out to do so, and I apologized. I then waved my arms, Pope-like, towards his house, and said "I hereby remove the curse!" I tried to sound booming and official. He said "Gracias," and then directed his zaftig wife to move the car. So the curse was lifted, and Mike and I left for his office, where I dropped him off. Hopefully the Fish will be under no similar black magic this year...