11.1 x 5.1 cm
In April of 1992, my father visited me at college and we drove to Boston, caught a game. Outside Fenway, my dad offered a scalper $20 for two pretty decent tickets, figuring it didn't hurt to ask. Apparently, it did hurt: the very soul of the scalper. He swore a blue streak, talked about how good the tickets were, and how could such an insulting offer even cross my father's lips. It was inane and comical and an apt indication of that famed Northern hospitality.
The seats we eventually got (from a slightly less belligerent citizen of Boston) were behind home plate. Tony Pena was catching for Boston that game. My dad and I drank beer and I talked about a girl I was pining over who was also named Pena and we watched ball. I don't remember who won. It was a great day at the Park.