I was reassured by an airline official that my bag was on it's way and we would be reunited by 7:30pm. I was collected at the airport by the hotel shuttle bus and in chatting to the driver discovered that the local baseball team had a game that night. With no firm plans and no clothes to unpack I checked in, dropped my hand luggage off and caught the shuttle over the Ohio river to Cincinnati. By 7:00pm I had a ticket for the game, had found an amazingly healthy option in the baseball ground food outlet, had sampled a local beer and was visiting my fourth US State that day.
I am struck by the ritual and routine that surround baseball games and that seems to exist in its own right irrespective of the game itself. I marvelled at the many techniques employed to keep the crowd entertained in the short pauses that occur at the end of each innings. The seventh innings stretch is a well known tradition and just one of the staples that all fans know and expect each game. Sitting amongst the crowd, watching all the razzmatazz on a warm evening with a constant stream of food and drink sellers touting their wares. I was struck by how pleasant it was and how entertaining; oh and by the way, in the background there was a game going on. Not at all like my experience at football matches in England; where the crowd generates an atmosphere in response to the team's performance, passion comes before razzamatazz, it is usually cold and I have never seen a vegetable in a food outlet let alone be offered a tray of raw veg with dips! As a Middlesbrough supporter another new experience was watching the home team, Cincinnati Reds, winning 7-1 and sending everyone home happy. Winning, scoring 7 and going home happy - I wish.
As we funnelled away from the extremely impressive stadium in a lovely Riverfront setting I realised that the Ohio has many bridges that span it's girth linking Cincinnati to Kentucky. I also realised that I had been driven across one bridge that linked two unfamiliar cities and now had to find a pedestrian bridge that would return me to a hotel that I had glimpsed briefly before being whisked off to the game.
After about 4 miles - most in the wrong direction, I got my bearings and wearily reached the hotel after midnight. The night porter reported that my luggage had not yet arrived. Hot, sweaty and dishevelled I faced the prospect of pulling these same crumpled clothes on for my meeting the next day. Despite this my extended walk ensured that I slept a deep and fortunately dream free sleep.
That is enough for one blog - part 2 later!
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