Going Native, Part 2

I kissed a total stranger last night.

I was at the Yankee game with my friend M, and we sat behind two hard core fans.  We knew they were hard core fans because when they took off their A-Rod jerseys, they were wearing A-Rod t-shirts underneath.

These guys did what I consider the duty of any hard core fan:  pay ridiculously close attention to the game, berate other people for not standing up and cheering, and discussing the finer points of Yankee trivia with other fans around them.  Having a brother that is a true fan, I know these things.  I ended up chatting one of them up half way through the game, and so I felt free to give him a lot of grief when he and his friend, at the top of the 9th inning, with the Yankees ahead by one run and Mariano Rivera coming in to pitch, get up to LEAVE THE STADIUM.

Really?  According to brother Jon, true fans don't leave until the end of the game.  I told him that.  He made some lame excuse about needing to catch a train, and how he lives over an hour and a half from the stadium. Please.  The guy was in agony, but I knew I had him.  No true fan can take that kind of honor challenge.

He finally says, 'OK, I'll stay, but if they win, I get to kiss you.'  I say, 'Deal.'

They won.