Roon-Dog

It was an amazing birthday weekend that was neither a weekend nor my birthday. But the Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday trip to Manchester was quite a pleasant surprise. After grudgingly waking up early Monday morning, I was treated to the sight of my new guitar! A very nice purchase (by my beautiful girlfriend), it left me yearning to keep playing as we walked to the bus that we inevitably missed. Not missing a beat, we caught a later bus and made it to our train. Once in Manchester, we entered our temporary residence: A questionable yet cool 1940's-esque building (and when I say 1940, I don't mean it was decorated as such, but rather that it was most likely from those years) that was located across the street from the train station. The room was cramp and smelt of stale-smoke but was a bargain at only 50 USD a night.

Having no plan, we simply explored the city for two days. We found some excellent shopping and treated ourselves to two Manchester United jerseys in preparation for the following night's game. We saved money eating, finding a delicious pub with great deals, and spent money frivolously (did I mention we had dessert? And rode a 20 story ferris wheel?). All of our mindless wandering, however fun it was, did not compare to the grand finale of the trip though: the Manchester United game.

Being on the other side of Manchester, we needed to take a train to the stadium. Leaving in plenty of time to catch the first train, we showed our trusty rail-passes to the guards as we walked to the Piccadilly to Trafford train. To our surprise, the passes didn't cover this journey. We then went to the ticket sales to purchase them, only to find out our American, 'chip'-less credit card didn't work. Plowing through the crowds we sprinted to the ATM to get cash out, only to find out that it was broken. With the assistance of moving sidewalks, we made record time to the other side of the station and back, money in hand. We purchased our tickets and began to walk through again, only to realize we were only handed one. After running back to grab mine, we sprinted through the maze of platforms to find ours. As we looked in confusion at the bare platform, below the sign labeled "18:58 to Manchester Utd," we were pointed in the proper direction by a chuckling local. Do you think we made the train? If watching it close the doors and take off as you run after it counts, then yes.

As we waited for the next train we were entertained by a happy elderly man that couldn't wait to talk Manchester soccer. After 10 minutes of enduring a conversation with an undistinguishable English accent, we caught a train that worked 50 minutes prior to kickoff. Hoping it would be smooth sailing, we went to the ticket office to pick up our tickets. Par for the course it seems, but they were selling tickets for important games that night and the line was wrapped around the outside of the building. We got our tickets 10 minutes prior to kickoff. We sat in our seats 1 minute prior. Smooth sailing from there.

The game was incredible. Getting to watch a game in real life, in that situation, was beyond words. Everything was real; it wasn't skewed by the pixelated fuzz of pub TVs. You could watch the goalie try to stay warm as the team attacked. You could watch every run off the ball. You could see the true talent of the best team in English soccer. And you noticed that Paul Scholes' still got it.

The seats were incredible. They couldn't have been better. We were even protected from the snow by the overhanging roof! To top it all off, we won 3-0, 2 of the goals being scored by Roon-dog (Steph's favorite). And we each got scarves, with Steph getting the fashionable green and yellow protest scarf.

I know I rave about how amazing everything is with each new adventure, but this night and this game were the best I've had in England and I'm sure Steph would say the same. While the town of Manchester is nothing compared to Keswick, the experience of attending a premier league soccer match in England at Old Trafford was indescribable. Beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

And then we got the treat of waking up at 5 am to catch the 6 am train to Hull in order to catch the bus to our flat in order to make it to our 9:15 class. A welcome surprise by Immauel, however, made up for the dreadful morning. He and Rory, a common friend, had tried to get tickets to the Hull City vs. Arsenal game and succeeded...and bought Steph and I each a ticket! See? We're making friends!

But for now...naptime.


Oh yeah...if anyone cares to see the goals from the game, here is a link:
http://www.tvgolo.com/futebol.php?subaction=showfull&id=1266961483&archive=&start_from=&ucat=40&