Day 108: Go To A Mets Game!

The last time I saw a Mets game was back when the stadium was called Shea and Simon and I were still dating. Fast forward 10 years and the stadium is now Citifield and Simon and I have had at least 5 relationships since; an idea that would have seemed like the end of the world at the time. Time really does heal all wounds. Simon and I were invited by Angelo's wife Josephine to celebrate his birthday at a Mets vs. Marins game.
The group of us were Simon, all of my cousins, cousin Angelo's friends and Josephine's best friends, most of whom were in the bridal party and think I'm a raging bitch. We didn't do much watching of the game, between drinking, eating, making fun of my cousin Anthony who had just gotten back from a relationship retreat with fiancée, Carmella and the 15 year old lesbians frenching in the row in front of us, the game took the back seat in entertainment. Citifield is nothing like Shea Stadium, where I remember cinderblock walls, greasy 5 dollar hotdogs and watered down beer. Citifield is like the Jetblue terminal in JFK where you can get sushi, a glass of champagne, clothes designed by Alyssa Milano and a massage while you watch the game. We were certainly not in Shea Stadium anymore. 
As the drinks were flowing, we were all loose and enjoying one of the last weekends of summer. My brother Andrew who had enjoyed several shots of tequila in martini lounge came bursting out of the doors screaming "What up Beyatch!" where I jovially asked "Why am I the bitch?". I looked over and saw Josephine and her maid of honor looking at each other with a smirk and heard "If the shoe fits...". Wow. Raging bitch speculation confirmed.
After the game, we had more drinks at the adjacent bar and I enjoyed having good ole American fun in an Irish Sports Bar. When I'm back in Paris, I'll miss nights like this. Speaking English, drinking beers with family and in-laws who hate me and dancing to bar icons like Springstein and Neil Diamond.
I woke up this morning with an email from Monsieur Flâneur in regards to my keys to my flat that finally arrived at his restaurant. I really have to stop using his restaurant as a P.O box because it sucks me back into our relationship. I should have used Sébastien's office; something I realized after the fact. He is going into my flat to investigate what my irresponsible subletter did while she was there and what made her flee without contacting me. To be honest, I'm freaked out. What the hell did she do? What the hell did she break? What the hell did she steal? My imagination is running rampant. 
Today is about enjoying these last days with family before going back to Paris, the last days of summer and to realize that there is a reason people are screened before they are given keys to an apartment. I hate to say it but lesson learned. Let's see what MF finds...