Even though I can't stand the New York Yankees, their Derek Jeter-inspired total blandness, and the fact that they are good because they just buy up any competition, going to one of their games is a quintessentially New York experience that I couldn't pass up. Plus, my friend Liz for $10 tickets through NYU, so it happened to be the cheapest way to spend a night in NYC; I just vowed before the game to cheer for whoever the damn Yankees were playing.
The three of us expected getting to the game to be a simple exercise in walking to the subway and getting on (and I think this, in itself, proved that none of us were New Yorkers). The A train slowly filled with ardent Yankees fans as we drew closer to the Bronx, and the prinstripe-clad mobs loudly argued over such important things as A-rod's batting average and how all other teams in the MLB pale in the face of Steinbrenner's multimillionaires until we pulled into 145th St. station, when we were all ordered off the train. No one really knew what was going on, since we couldn't hear any of the announcements over a group of young guys agonizing over the terrors of missing the first inning because the "f---ing subway always does this."
So we stood on the platform, waiting for the C train all of us thought would come to replace the train that had so unceremoniously dumped us. It didn't come. When we finally caught wind of the fact that the entire subway line between 145th and the Bronx was closed for a security risk, the herd tramped upstairs, only to find every Yankees fan in NY waiting on the Harlem street corner, waiting for the Bx19 bus.
In fact, there was already a Bx19 bus stopped nearby. This was certainly not because the bus driver wanted to be stopped. Oh no, it was because the mob, already taking us 2 of the 4 Bronx-bound lanes, had swarmed around it in a scene from some sort of bad disaster movie. It was literally rocking back and forth as people tried to squeeze through the doors that already had people falling out of them. The bus driver was screaming at people to get off the bus, but clearly, no one was listening. We decided it might just be best to wait for the next bus. It was then that an ambulance came roaring down the street, only to find that mobs of people and an overflowing bus had backed up traffic for at least a couple blocks. The blaring sirens didn't have the faintest effect on the New Yorkers, who were dead set on getting to the Yankees game, come hell or high water.
When another Bx19 appeared on the horizon, everyone got in what they thought would be the best position possible to be the first person on the bus. We just stood there, contemplating just turning around and going home. Fortunately, the bus pulled to a stop right next to us, so in a normal situation, we would have been some of the first people on the bus. This, however, was clearly not a normal situation, and somehow the entire bus managed to fill up before we even got a single foot in the door. We did manage to get on the bus in the end, barely; the people just behind us were ordered off by a screaming bus driver who kept repeating "I can't see my damn mirrors! Get off the bus! I can't see my mirrors! MOVE OUT!"
The bus dumped us unceremoniously at another subway station, where the trains were actually running. A short ride on the train later, we finally found ourselves outside the storied Yankee Stadium.