that stupid panic-when-uncomfortable gene

It's been a while since the last update! This is due to our mini-vacation part 2...but we will talk about that in a later post. First we need to fill you in on the week and a half after Blackpool/Liverpool leading up to our trip. And when we say a week and a half, we mean the one day that we actually did something other than lounge around Hull searching for edible food.

The Sunday before last, May 9th, was the last game of the FA Premier League. Considering our local bottom-of-the-league Hull City Tigers had already officially secured their fate of relegation, our eyes were solely on our true favorite team: Manchester United. Despite the efforts of my mother, my girlfriend, and myself, we were unable to purchase tickets to the final game. This was a major disappointment, but we realized how lucky we were to have seen 3 matches already (thank you Immanuel, Stephanie the sister, and Becky). To soften the blow, however, we decided to catch a train down to Manchester anyways to watch the game at a local pub. We figured if we couldn't get in the stadium, we might as well get close.

After arriving early and shopping around, we headed to legendary Old Trafford to soak in the atmosphere. Having drained ourselves of money, we had a strict budget of 20 pounds that could be spent in Manchester if we wanted to survive until we finished the semester. Needless to say, scalping tickets was financially out of the picture.

We walked around and around wishing we could go into the stadium. Minute after minute passed and the mass of fans slowly began shifting inside the walls of the stadium. We simply aimed to find where the players exited the stadium (to get pictures/autographs after the game) and see if anyone had 2 tickets for 10 pounds each. We could dream right?

Being the last game of the season with a potential for league victory (pending a Chelsea loss), there were few people looking to give up their tickets. Adding to the difficulty of finding unwanted tickets, reselling tickets appeared to be illegal due to the reserved nature of scalpers. After many efforts to find tickets, we located a true, greedy, sketchy group of scalpers. Normally, we wouldn't have bothered, but it was our only shot. We approached one guy simply to get a price range (hoping for under 10 pounds) and were short 105 pounds 2 minutes later.

After asking how much, the man told me 90 pounds each. I quickly asked if he had cheaper as he proceeded to show me two more tickets for 80 each. At this point, I said I couldn't pay that much and began to walk away as Steph joined me. He then followed us asking if we were interested. We both said no and said we would need cheaper prices. He caved and said he could give them to us for 70 each.

Now as many of you know, I don't like being in high pressure situations when I want to make a decision; I like to walk away, talk about it in private, then make a decision. With this scalper, however, that wasn't going to cut it. In a bid to politely say no and walk away from the situation, I said I didn't have any cash on me. He proceeded to ask if it was a deal or not until I showed him my empty pockets (aside from a 5 pound note). I originally thought that this would allow Steph and I to go "get money" and avoid a situation where we shouldn't be spending money. Catching me off guard, however, he said he would walk us to the nearest ATM. Before doing so, he said, "You guys going to do it or not? 70's the best I got." Remember...we had a 20 pound limit. Not 140. 140 would mean our entire food budget for the next month. Maybe it was the irrational, panic-when-confused, rash-decisions-in-uncomfortable-situations gene I inherited from my father, maybe it was the roar of the crowd as the game neared kick-off, or maybe it was the realization that we would never be this close for a long time, but we said yes.

Having secured the deal, we set off on a 6 minute walk to the other side of the stadium for an ATM. Fresh off the heals of a rash decision, we walked behind the man deciding if we should've agreed or not. The longer we walked, the more we regretted the idea of spending so much money that we didn't have. Imagine spending 10 times more money than you had for something and then being given 5 minutes to stew over your decision before having to contractually finalize it. While we were not contractually obligated, the longer we walked with this man, the worse I felt backing out. Steph and I continued to bicker back and forth, weighing out the options. Was it worth starving for a month? How badly did we want to see the game? Was this guy even legitimate?

As we waited in line for the ATM 20 yards from a hovering scalper, we decided we needed to buy tickets. As Steph put it, "When is the next time we will be this close? We won't have an opportunity like this for 10 years at least." That sold it for me. But I also decided we couldn't pay 140 pounds. Call it stingy, call it cheap, but I devised a plan. As the scalper hovered from a distance, I pretended to be aghast at the ATM. I looked at Steph in anger over the confusion displayed on the screen. Approaching the scalper, I told him that the machine only let me take out 100 pounds and that it must have been a miscalculation on my finances. Maybe he was desperate or maybe he was generous, but he took the deal under the condition I throw in the 5 pounds he had seen earlier. I quickly agreed and we exchanged.

I was still anxious until we got into the stadium and discovered the tickets were indeed real. Walking to our seats, we were amazed at the quality. 5th row. Literally, 5th row. Close enough to see the players' sweat. Much like the previous 3 soccer games we went to, we wouldn't stop yapping about how excited we were. I felt like a pathetic teenage groupie as I about went crazy when Ryan Giggs, one of my all time favorites, stood in front of us for a corner kick. Being so close obviously had its disadvantages, and we struggled to see the second half of the game (with all the action on the other half), but the seats were perfect in our eyes. For 52.50 pounds each, we were in heaven. We won 4-0. Unfortunately, however, Chelsea won their game 8-0 and we didn't win the league. Not like we would've seen the celebration anyways, considering we took an uncharacteristic option to leave 2 minutes early to line up for autographs.

No point belaboring this story much more than it needs to be. Probably about 200 fans joined us as we screamed at players, held back by barricades, hoping for them to come sign an autograph. Player after player snubbed fans with a half-hearted wave as they carried their newborn babies to their luxurious cars. A few, however, were true to their fans, with 4 gaining respect in our books.

Wayne Rooney and Micheal Carrick signed autographs but unfortunately got nowhere near us. 4 players did though, including 2 of our all-time favorite players. First, Steph squeezed her hand in to have Ryan Giggs, my soccer hero, sign my tickets. While I was on cloud 9 and ready to leave, Steph pressed on, pushing through fans to get more. Next up? John O'Shea. After that? Superstar Rio Ferdinand. And then we were faced with a dilemma. The last train across town left in 10 minutes and one of our combined favorite players stood about 15 minutes of autographs away. Was it worth the risk? Definitely. And we got it. Patrice Evra.

Unfortunately, however, we missed the train. Not wanting to walk an hour back to the train station, we had to use a cab for the first time in Europe. He obviously knew we had no clue what we were doing and we both agree we got ripped off because of it. We asked how much it would be to the train station and he said about 10 pounds. We hopped in, deciding we had already blown through so much money, 10 was not going to be noticed. We watched the meter as we approached the station, about 5-10 minutes away. When we were about 3/4 of the way there, the meter said 5.60. Doing the math, we would have about a 7.50 ride with a 2.50 tip...10 pounds exactly.

The man spoke with a heavy Middle-Eastern accent that I could not understand. Because of that, I anti-socially avoided any talking, leaving the burden on wonderful Steph. He told her something that neither of us understood very well, but Steph followed enough to know what was going on. He said that in order to save us money, he would shut off the meter and just charge us 12 pounds. Justifiably confused, Steph said ok and he proceeded to suggest a hefty tip for such a kind gesture. Mind you, I did not know what he had just done (essentially double the price of our trip and label it as "a kind gesture").

It just so happened that when the meter was shut off, it displayed the time. As we pulled up to the station, the time read 7 15. Not knowing the meter had been shut off, I gave him a 10 with a look of confidence as I began to exit the cab, thinking I was giving a 2 85 tip on top of a 7 15 tab. He was confused and said I did not give him enough, which quickly confused me. He said, "You gave me a 10," and I said "Keep the change." Steph must have thought I was pretty ballsy as she butted in and told me the bill was 12 pounds. Confused and overwhelmed, my rash-decision gene kicked in and I gave him 12 pounds. I was confused enough to not give him any tip at all. After Steph explained to me what was going on, I was happy to have not tipped him. Steph and I follow in the footsteps of Grandma Donna when it comes to generous tipping, but I don't like getting taking advantage of.

Finally, we were at the station ready to go home when the depression of drained finances overcame the joy of Manchester victory. On the ride home, calculating finances showed us that we would need to cut our forthcoming trip short. The next few days were obviously very sad as we tried contacting hotels to cancel reservations before Randy and Jean Erb saved the day. Unbeknownst to both Steph and myself, her parents injected her account with a very large sum of money after hearing Stephs' sad state. I must say, we were both very grateful. Staying true to character, they saved our trip without us even asking for help. Without them, our week long trip (covered in the next blog) would not have been possible. More importantly, however, is that without them, the Manchester adventure would have been viewed as a mistake. Now, though, it is one of our best memories yet.