We make our way toward the Seventy-seventh Street station, and as soon as we near it, I can already tell that it’s much busier than it was when Tyler first took me here. It’s rush hour combined with a Yankees game, so I’m not that surprised. Snake shoves himself through the thick flow of people on the stairs, using his shoulders to barge them out of the way, and Tyler pushes me after him. It’s loud and people are yelling and I can hear trains arriving and Snake is muttering under his breath and Tyler is following close behind me, and we’re descending these stairs as best we can until finally we reach the ticket turnstiles.
“We’re getting the 6 and the 4,” Tyler says loudly as he heads through the turnstile next to mine. Once through, he places a hand on my shoulder, and I’m assuming it’s so that we don’t get separated amongst the crowd. “The 6 to 125th Street,” he says while guiding me, “and the 4 to Yankee Stadium.”
Snake has somehow managed to weave his way onto the platform, finding us a spot to stand in. Tyler and I join him a few seconds later, and with the station overflowing there are a lot of people to study while we wait. There’s some lady struggling with a stroller. Many people in work attire. Even more in baseball jerseys, mostly Yankees.
“Are you excited for the game?” Tyler asks me, his voice slightly muffled under all the noise.
“Yeah.” I angle my body around to face him fully, smiling. I watch as he raises his eyebrows.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say again. I am excited, but I believe Tyler might think I’m lying. “I wanna see this Derek Jeter guy you speak about.”
Just then, the train pulls up and the crowd immediately starts shifting. Everyone makes a beeline for the doors, carelessly tripping over one another, and Snake is no exception. He grabs my arm and starts to tug me along with him, so I reach back and grasp Tyler’s wrist, the three of us holding onto each other as though we’re back in elementary school. Embarrassing or not, we all manage to get into the rear car with only a few seconds to spare, squeezing in and reaching for rails just as the doors close.
“Fucking New York,” Snake mutters under his breath, but everyone hears him anyway. He receives some pointed glares, either because of his comment or the fact that he’s riding the New York City subway wearing the baseball jersey of a Boston team. The surrounding Yankees fans don’t look too impressed.
Rivalry aside, the ride uptown is quick, and after gazing lustfully at the back of Tyler’s neck for the journey, he finally turns around to direct me off the train, with Snake striding along beside us. The 125th Street station looks a little bigger than Seventy-seventh Street, but it also smells like something died in here. I scrunch my nose up as I follow Tyler and Snake across the uptown platform until we’re approached by a guy trying to sell us loose cigarettes for a dollar. Snake buys two just to end the guy’s pestering.
The 4 train arrives only minutes later, and again, it’s just as packed as the 6. This time, though, there are fewer people waiting on the platform, so we edge our way onto the train with ease and even manage, somehow, to locate seats. Before I know it we’re arriving into the 161st Street station for Yankee Stadium. It’s an elevated station and it takes me a minute or so to adjust to the daylight. By this point Snake is so hyped up for the game that he quite literally leaps onto the platform the moment the doors open. Judging by the amount of people who get off at this stop, it seems half the train is heading to the Yankees game.
The stairs down to ground level are a nightmare, but Snake isn’t afraid to yet again shove his way through the flow of people while Tyler and I tag along behind him. I roll my eyes as I walk, and it’s not until we reach the bottom of the stairs that I realize we’re here—we’re outside Yankee Stadium.
It’s absolutely huge, massive beyond comprehension. There are hundreds upon hundreds of fans lining the outside walls, their tickets in hands, kids fizzing with excitement around them. The structure is rounded, the gorgeous pale limestone walls giving it a clean and modern appearance. There are even narrow glassless windows near the top, and below there are ticket gates, the letters huge and colored a deep blue. The standout detail, however, are the words “YANKEE STADIUM” on the very top of the stadium wall, indented in gold in the limestone. It seems to glitter when the sun hits it at just the right angle.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in. “Woah.”
“Right?” Tyler agrees, grinning from my side as he places both hands on my shoulders and directs me across the road toward Gate 6. Well, the line for it, at least.
Unsurprisingly, Snake’s already there, keeping a spot for us as the line moves along quickly. He’s impatiently tapping his foot on the ground when we reach him.
“Relax,” Tyler tells him, his grin shifting into a playful smirk. He lets go of me. “It must be tough knowing you’re gonna lose, but you need to chill out, man.”
“Gimme the fucking tickets,” Snake snaps. He shoves Tyler in front of him, snatching the three tickets that are sticking out of the back pocket of Tyler’s jeans, while Tyler laughs. Snake studies the tickets for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where’s Section 314?”
“Terrace level,” Tyler replies.