Ronnie Dee--Quite A Trip To St. Louis

While on vacation in June of 1967, I noticed that my beloved San Francisco Giants were coming to St. Louis to play the Cardinals. I hadn't seen a major league baseball game outside of Cincinnati in a while and I thought I'd go. Airfare from Louisville to St. Louis was pretty inexpensive, so I could leave one day, go to the game, spend the night in a hotel and come back the next day. Cool, I decided to do just that. I didn't know what an unforgettable experience it would turn out to be.

I parked in the overnight lot at the airport and bought my round trip ticket and took off for St. Louis. I landed and took a limo downtown where I checked into a hotel, ate dinner and to my surprise found out one could walk to the new stadium in downtown St. Louis. Things started to get a little wacky as soon as the game started.

The Giants started mistreating Bob Gibson, the Hall of Fame pitcher, from the beginning. They scored seven runs before Gibson recorded his first out and tagged him for two more runs before manager Red Schoendienst removed him from the game. Jim Ray Hart had the biggest hit, a three run homer. The fans even booed him. I couldn't believe that. Gibson called it the worst start in his career. The Giants however, weren't through. They scored two more runs for a total of eleven runs in the top of the first inning. In the bottom of the first, the Cards scored two runs on four straight hits before Giants manager Herman Franks quickly removed his starting pitcher, Joe Gibbon. Relief pitcher Bob Bolin came in and put out the fire and continued to pitch the rest of the game. St. Louis scored two more harmless runs later in the game and the Giants won 12-4. Every Giant regular player got at least one hit and scored at least one run. Bolin recorded all twenty seven outs and got the win, but didn't get credit for a complete game because he didn't start the game. One of baseball's quirks.

Like Harvey Haddix, who once pitched a perfect game for nine innings on 78 pitches and continued on through twelve innings, but did not get credit for a no-hitter because he gave up a hit and a run and lost the game in the thirteenth inning. Anyhow, a strange game.

In the meantime, I had done something very stupid when I landed that afternoon. As I walked through the terminal I had a thought. Why don't I ask the ticket agent if they could hold my return ticket in a message box or something until I pick it up tomorrow. So I did just that and an amiable agent behind the counter said, "Sure," and that was that. I thought it would be safe from me, maybe drinking too much and losing it. Why I didn't just put it in a drawer in my room, I don't know.

I behave myself that night and get my wake up call in the morning. I hop up and catch my ride on the airport bus. There were already several guys on board and I headed for the back seat. I relaxed there while we made a couple more stops and then we made what the driver declared was the last stop before the airport. That was when I was privy to witness what can only be described as an Abbott and Costello or Benny Hill scenario. It was even funnier than the time Aunt Birdie fell out of the dining room chair.

We stopped on a corner across the street from a little hotel. We sat there for a minute and nothing happened. There were now six other guys besides me on the bus and they were all business-type guys who began grumbling about getting to the airport. So the bus driver gets off and goes to the front door of the hotel to see what the holdup is and it is locked. He then goes around the corner and walks down to a side door a little ways down the block. He goes in that door at the same time a man walks out of the front door and comes over and gets on the bus.

He sees there is no driver and someone tells him, "He went in to look for you."

"Oh," says the guy and hops off the bus and heads for the hotel. He finds the front door locked, so he goes down to the side door and goes in just as the driver comes out of the front door. By this time I am starting to be very amused by all of this and the other passengers are really getting antsy and grumpier, and start looking at their watches. There's more. I wrote it all down while it was fresh in my mind.

The driver comes back to the bus and looks around and asks, "Did he ever come out?"

The passengers, getting angrier by the minute, tell him again, "Yes, and he's looking for you," and before anyone can say anything else, he jumps off and circles the bus. Just as he gets off, the man comes out the hotel's front door again and runs across the street and jumps on the bus.

"I thought he was here," the exasperated man cries, and a couple people groan, "He's going around the bus." So naturally, the man leaps off the bus once again and goes looking for the driver who has just slipped around the back of the bus. I can see both of them from my vantage point and I am rolling around in hysterics by now. The driver goes around the front just as the man goes around the back and the driver once more boards the bus and looks for the man who isn't there. He is stupefied, and says, "What the Hell," and the guys say, "He's gone around the bus," and the driver jumps off the bus again before anyone can stop him and circles the bus once more, with the man still a half bus ahead of him, where they can't see each other.

I am rocking with laughter when the man gets on the bus one more time, looks around with a pitiful expression and turns around. At long last, before he can get off again, all of the passengers, in a state of real agitation,yell at him all at once, "NO, stay here. He's coming back," and the elusive bus driver does indeed come around the front and gets on the bus again and does a double take when he actually sees the guy . They look at each other and begin making weak excuses: "I thought you were there." "Well I thought you were here," and so forth.

The businessmen now begin urging the driver to forget about it and get to the airport. The flustered culprit smiled sheepishly at everyone, took a seat and we at long last headed for our destination. I was sitting in the back unable to contain my glee at the whole situation. I laughed all the way to the airport.

Unfortunately my joyful disposition didn't last long. I entered the terminal and approached the TWA ticket counter. I was met by a person I didn't like right off the bat. He was a stubby little man with a flat top haircut and horned rimmed glasses. I asked for my ticket and he didn't know what I was talking about. I tried to explain, but he was steadfast. We bickered for some time before he told me to move along because the line behind me was building. He kept looking at me like I was trying to pull a fast one on him and he wasn't falling for it. I now admit, it was a dumb thing for me to do, but I guess the night agent just ripped me off. I asked what I could do to get my money back and was told to fill out a lost ticket voucher. I did just that, with eagle eye watching me closely, and I wandered over to a seat and pondered my situation.
I was in Saint Louis, penniless, as I had just used my last coinage on a coke and a pack of vending machine cheese crackers, and I had just watched my flight take off without me. I thought maybe I could call my sister collect and have her wire me enough money for a ticket. That was about all I could do. I was pondering upon where I would even find a phone on which to call collect when a thought struck me. I seemed to remember that I had stuck a twenty dollar bill in the corner of my wallet months ago. Like what the girls used to call mad money. In case of an emergency. "Well," I thought, "this qualifies."
I took out my wallet and searched, and what do you know, I found a twenty dollar bill all folded neatly in a corner. Aha! I may have found my way home.

I hastened to the ticket counter, carefully avoiding flat top and inquired of a young woman as to the cost of a one way fare to Louisville. Miraculously she quoted, "Twenty dollars sir." I swear, exactly twenty dollars. I nearly swooned with excitement, ignoring the suspicious leer from flat top. The girl gave me the ticket and told me it was a standby. I took it and headed for the standby area. It was overrun with servicemen. I thought I would be there forever, what with all the servicemen ahead of me, but was quite surprised when they called me first to board the plane. I sat in the aisle seat beside a soldier and a young woman he was obviously trying to impress. I felt like I was sitting in on a rom-com audition. To amuse myself for the forty five minute flight home, I replayed the bus merry-go-round in my mind and it was really hard to keep from laughing out loud. I was only too happy to leave the charming couple to their devices as I disembarked in Louisville.

When I stopped at the parking lot pay booth, I told the nice lady of my plight and she handed me an envelope with instructions to drop a check in it and mail it back, which I did post haste. Only one thing remained - my lost ticket refund.
About ten days following my return I came home from work just before an impending storm. As I pulled a promising envelope from the mailbox, a big gust of wind yanked the envelope right out of my hand. It flew a short way down the road and landed right in a muddy patch at the side of the road. I quickly retrieved it and sure enough, it was a check from TWA. Thus ended an extremely forgettable/unforgettable trip to Saint Louis. But at least the Giants won.