Cursed No More

Pigs are flying, Hell has frozen and the Bambino has rolled over in his grave. Last night my beloved Red Sox put an end to an 86 year championship drought by winning the World Series for the first time since 1918. Andrew and I viewed the game at a bar in Noho. Afterwards, Sox fans were running down the streets of New York and shouting in celebration. Just a few hours after the game was over, I awoke for my opening shift at work. On the way out the door, I donned my lucky Sox hat in order to signal my side to the locals. As I walked down the subway platform at 6:30 AM to catch the downtown A-Train, New Yorkers who were still wearing their ugly Yankees hats, glared at me in utter jealousy and embarassment knowing that I was the champion. Now they have to deal with the curse being reversed and trying to win a championship back from the defenders, the 2004 Boston Red Sox.