07.16.02 - 6:12 p.m.

So. The game. Was prefaced by a delightful meal at Primanti Brothers where I consumed my traditional tuna and cheese avec fries, coleslaw and Trappey's hot sauce. Mmmmmm. I may start craving it once more if I don't stop thinking about it. From there, Dad maneuvered us across the Roberto Clemente (Sixth Street) Bridge to PNC Park, where RC's statue has a decidedly less prominent position than it did at Three Rivers. Even though it is his bridge and all, so I guess it makes a little bit of sense, I still feel Roberto got the proverbial shaft. There is also a massive statue of Willie Stargell, whose ass is directly at head height for a 5'5" girl. Such as I am. I was nearly conked on the noggin by Willie Stargell's metal ass.

The Pirates have such wonderful ballpark diversions as a pierogi race, an animated Pirate on the Jumbotron who says things such as "Arrrr, where's me shirt?", and the Pirate Parrot, but none can compare to the crazy superfan at the end of our row. He's one of those guys you just know is a little off, what with his ancient, ripped baseball jersey, his profuse sweat and his lack of teeth, but he was the best and most amusing thing I saw that night.

He had his own brand of PG-rated catchphrases, like calling for a "Hoover Doover!" instead of a double play. His favorite pitch was what he termed the "Dipsy Doodle" that would "strike him [the Astro] right out!" He was so loud and enthusiastic that the whole section couldn't HELP but pay attention to him, and when he got to dance on the Jumbotron for an entire between-inning song, he got a standing ovation from all of us. And wouldn't you know it, the next play was a double play, and instead of just cheering, everyone shouted, "The HOOVER!" And really, he never swore or said anything lewd, didn't drink any alcohol, only juice, and was possibly the best, most well-behaved crazy man I've ever seen. Except perhaps that polite bum in San Francisco.

The next day was finally Idlewild Day, and though you think that might not be as fascinating as the Dipsy Doodle, you'd be wrong. We got to sit in the front row of Mr. Rogers' trolley and invite all of the Neighborhood to the Castle Hug And Song. ("Come along, come along, to the Castle Hug and Song!") Daniel Striped Tiger told us, "I'm a shy tiger!" and at the end of the ride, we got to hug and sing. Dan's one and only regret from the trip is not hugging Nicole, our tour guide, since it was her first day on the job.

We took a quick ride on the Black Widow Spider and then went back to Johnstown, where BASSIE awaited us! I gave her the Bison vodka I'd been saving and then we had a silly EDA fiesta with bocce. I was not good. As usual. But Dan was! And there was so much FOOOOOD, and a strange Brazilian woman lectured me on the matriarchy while I nodded my head and tried not to look confused.

Dad got drunk and started giving his little soppy speeches about how "you kids should just have fun, I'm serious, do it all while you're young. Go, have fun, travel, while you can." Oh dad. It's not my fault you never left the sad steel town. But I was cold and I wanted to SLEEP and I didn't bring any PANTS because it was 100 degrees while I was packing.

And then we finally did go to bed because we were going to see Moomy! and Bassie again! and the Powerpuff movie the next day.