A million phriends join the big party
I WANT to thank about 2 million of my closest phriends for joining me at yesterday's phantastic Phillies World Championship parade - but did we all have to go to the ballpark in the same Broad Street Line subway car?
Broad Street Billy was so squooshed, I couldn't breathe enough to laugh when Mike Lawson, of Gilbertsville, Montgomery County, squeezed himself and his cup of beer in at City Hall station, saw lots of phoxy phemales in the red-clad mass of humanity and said, "I'd just like to announce that I'm single."
MICHAEL S. WIRTZ / Staff photographer
A fan gets a lift from her friends as they await the parade yesterday on S. Broad Street.
Then he said, "Can anybody help me pour another beer?"
Then he said, "I don't think my back is supposed to be in this position."
Lawson, a union carpenter who helped build the Bank, admitted, "I just wanted a parade. Whether it was the Phillies or the Eagles or the Sixers or Smarty Jones, I just wanted a parade."
He also wanted to get closer to Danielle Rosen, 21, from Northeast Philly, who was riding the train inches from Lawson's beer.
"I spotted her right away," Lawson said. "That's why I announced that I am single."
Alas, Rosen got off at Oregon. Lawson got off at Pattison. Perhaps, 28 years from now . . .
"Lights Out" Middaugh: Kevin Middaugh, 31, of Drexel Hill, waited along the parade route in the Bank's parking lot, wearing a lampshade on his head and a light switch taped to his chest with the words, "Lights Out: 10/29/2008."
"Lampshade, four dollars," Middaugh said. "Light switch, three dollars. Winning the World Series: PRICELESS!"
Middaugh said his fiancee, Michelle Kanaval, 28, was at his house for Game 5's last three innings, planning the seating chart for their upcoming wedding. She asked Middaugh a question and he said, "Just put all my friends by the bar. No more questions until this is OVER!"
He said this to the woman who took him to Phillies spring training for his 30th birthday. But, hey, she should know: There is no nuptials-planning in baseball.
Grown Men Cry: Best friends Romar Berry and Naeem Herrington, of North Philly, watched dozens of teens scaling the Bank's security fence near the right-field gate and getting into the tickets-only celebration with nothing but Spider-Man skills.
"When I was young and skinny . . ." Berry, 39, said with a sigh. He said he and Herrington paid $1,500 apiece to a scalper for Game 5 tix. No regrets.
"After [Phils' closer Brad] Lidge let that one guy get a hit, I covered my eyes the whole time he faced that last batter. I was scared to death. I only knew he got the final out when I heard the crowd roar. I was crying. Our whole section was crying. I'll never forget that moment. Never."
Baring Her Soul: Across from the Bank's main entrance, a woman with long blond hair stood on the roof of a truck and spent a while pulling up her Ryan Howard T-shirt, flashing her cleavage to Pattison Avenue passers-by, then turning and doing the same to hundreds of young men in the Linc parking lot. She got as loud an ovation as Ryan Howard got inside the ballpark. Good times! *
