So what’s wrong with you people on the east side? I’m embarrassed to say I’m one of you. I was on a bridge over troubled waters, keenly on guard for the danger that lay ahead. Say this isn’t a baseball town. The Detroit Tigers faithful in Windsor, Ontario. Many of those fans travel from out of state, through gridlocked traffic. I know I am in God’s hands.
I wasn’t going to crash into that invisible, yet impenetrable, wall that aliens (or maybe the Yankees) have installed on the bay bridges to stop Tampa’s baseball fans from reaching Tropicana Field. You think getting to the Trop is tough? Try going to a game in Baltimore, or Washington. These were sports fans.
I was listening to a sports-talk radio show that morning as caller after caller ranted about the same thing: Driving across the bay is too far to go for a Rays game.
Cardinals fans come from all over the Midwest to see a game in St. Gephyrophobia is an anxiety disorder brought about by the fear of bridges. Louis.
They need a demotion to the minors to develop a better argument. A little known fact about me is that bridges scare the s**t out of me. But that drive doesn’t seem to bother you. Or the St. Each team starts with one Ghost on the lower level of the bridge and two on the upper level.
Say there are too many other things to do here. Why? Because this one doesn’t float. Petersburg, he needs a geography lesson. Just jump on Interstate 275, or the Lee Roy Selmon Crosstown Expressway.
Really? I recall the drive from Orlando being just a tad bit longer than the trip from Tampa to St. Then it hit me. Petersburg, not to mention that Interstate 4 is always fun.
