DC's Saves Made Me Friends

Turns out I didn't need to change shifts after all because DC's game wasn't until 9pm and I would have gotten out of work at 8pm, but having that extra time allowed me to choose the perfect shirt from DC's closet (as my laundry needed to be laundered) - a bright orange Ralph Lauren Polo t-shirt. I chose this shirt not only because it was the only large, but also because it meant I would be noticed. My train of thought was if I'm going where people have guns, I might as well do what hunters do to prevent themselves from getting shot back up north and wear the brightest colors possible.

There was only one flaw in my logic - well perhaps two. The first was that everyone else that was supporting New Vibes was wearing black or white shirts and Jorts that ended at their ankles. They would have been capris if they had started where they where supposed to. I stood out like... well, like a white guy wearing an orange shirt in a sea of locals wearing black or white. There's really no other way to explain it. The other flaw was that the other team wore orange. Not just any orange - the exact same shade as I was wearing. The only thought that came to mind was a sarcastic "excellent."

I've only been down in the islands for a month and a half, and there is a definitive dialect associated with the local islander's version of the English language. I have not quite adjusted to this particular aspect of my new life. By that I mean I have no freaking clue what is being said to me 90% of the time. I felt like I was in a stadium full of Shannon Sharpes and I was Dan Marino. Postgame coverage will never eclipse the language barrier between those two.

Now I took french in high school, which should be read: I barely know french. But, the little I do know includes the words "ce" meaning "that" and "la" meaning "there" (I hope, please correct me if I'm wrong Madame Rosetti). At one point, the gentleman to my left looked to me and pointed to a player saying "CELA". Based on my knowledge of any language besides English, I thought he was saying, "that, there." I then asked if he was speaking French, just to verify my suspicions. I. Was. Wrong. CELA is the name of the player, and I definitely offended this guy who was only trying to be nice to an obviously out of place fan. If you're reading this, guy in the stands, please take my words of condolences: je suis desole.

Just then, DC (the reason I was in the preposterous situation in the first place) made an absolutely incredible and athletic save that sent the crowd into a frenzy. By simply screaming "THAT'S MY ROOMATE" I managed to make twelve new friends. In fact, less than a minute later one of the guys came up to me, looked into my party cup, and upon seeing any beverage at all instructed, "Finish whas in ya cup!" so he could buy me another $2 Heineken.

There are words you learn growing up that you think you will never have to use again. Today, I would like to feature the word "adjacent". Adjacent means directly next two, although most people just use its definition in its place. Let me use it in a sentence: At DC's soccer game last night, both groups of locals adjacent to me in the stands, one to the left and one to the right, checked to make sure that weed smoke wouldn't bother me. Apparently they didn't know Kremdog was a former employer of mine.

The game ended in a 1-1 tie which is so uncommon for soccer. Even though most of the team was working DC over and trying to get he and I to join them at Green House for a couple of drinks, we decided to head back to the apartment and pass on the "only white people at the bar" sandwich they wanted us to eat.