10-years -ago today Chase Utley dropped an F-Bomb this city had been looking forward to for 28 years. “World champions……WORLD FUCKING CHAMPIONS!”
10-years-ago at the same time, instead of being shitfaced drunk with my loser friends and going insane in the streets of Philadelphia, I was wearing a pair of old ratty khakis, a $20 polo shirt, and wondering if the shards of my computer screen would mercifully slice through my jugular after I smashed my head through the machine.
Yes. I had to work the day of the Phillies parade, the first championship I had witnessed in my then 26-years of existence because I was far too much of a pussy to tell my boss I wouldn’t be working that day.
In the words of Robert Durst, “WHAT A DISASTER.”
I’m still pissed off about it. You’d think I’d be fine with it a decade later, but nope. Here we are. The pit of my stomach still drops when I see clips of the parade or the celebration, as I’m forced to recall where I was instead….putting out a crappy local paper because I decided to be miserable and become a journalist.
How fun! Who needs a championship parade for the first time in your life when there are articles about property reassessments and local South Jersey elections to cover (ask me to tell you about the Haddonfield council member who once threatened that he would “show me, I’ll show you!” after winning his election. He never did “show me,” and for that I’m grateful).
I was far too much of a meek pussy to tell my boss there was no way in hell I’d be working that day. The day before he gathered all of the office together and said nobody would be permitted to take the day off. Friday was deadline day, after all, no exceptions. Of COURSE he wouldn’t let us come in on Saturday to send the paper to the printers, because he went to the Turf Club every Saturday and he didn’t want to work.
I missed the parade so my jackass boss could go to the Turf Club and watch mother fucking horse racing with his degenerate friends.
So there I was, sitting in front of my computer, watching a bad stream of the parade as I fantasized about wrapping my hands around my editor’s neck and squeezing until I could escape to Broad Street.
Instead of committing manslaughter and fleeing into the city, I was given the last-minute assignment of going to the PATCO stop in Haddonfield to interview the excited fans who were waiting to catch the train to go into the city and drink their faces off.
“So, how long have you guys been Phillies fans? What did you do when they won? Please dear god take me with you, I’m so miserable….help me….”
At the time it seemed impossible. I had to go to work, what else could I do? Looking back on it I sincerely doubt I would have been fired if I had just not come into work. He knew we were all young, all scared to lose our jobs, and he took advantage of our inexperience because he didn’t want to come in on a Saturday.
Oh well. At least I didn’t have to wait another decade for a chance to go to a championship parade………………..
Son of a bitch.
Editor’s Note: I did make it to the Eagles parade and made up for lost time. Good stuff.
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