Even though we had the day off of school, on November 4th, 2016, my father and I still rolled into the Trinity parking lot in our gigantic, teal Suburban at approximately 3:30. As I departed from him with a tired wave and “see you later”. I hunched over and stomped up the stairs in the defeat of still spending my day off at my high school. As I waited for a fellow crew member or actress to open the auditorium door, I pulled out my phone and waded through endless snapchat stories and instagram posts of my friends and classmates downtown at the Cubs parade. I harshly exhaled and shoved my phone back into my old gym sweatpants as I was let in. I went backstage and waited for someone else I knew to come through the door. In the end about 3 other girls came. I glanced over at my friend as we were quickly, practicing changing sets. “Where is everybody else?”, I whispered, careful to not run over my foot with the humongous fireplace we were moving. She, in return, stifled a laugh and looked up at…show more content… The Chicago Cubs, after 108 years, finally won the world series. My dad nearly screamed out in frustration while watching the game, pleading to the tv screen for the Cubs to play as they had for his entire lifetime. My dad strongly despises the Chicago Cubs. He always has and he always will. Me, on the other hand, could care less about baseball in general. The only sport I pay attention to is hockey. I absolutely love it. Baseball? Not too much. That's why I didn’t bother coming out of uniform the day after the Cubs won. There's no point. I’m not going to sit behind a desk, surrounded by die hard Cubs fans and mock them by pretending that I’ve always loved the Cubs (even though that's what a large amount of Chicago seems to do once a team wins). Luckily for us, we got the Friday that week off thanks to the Cubbies. That moment was the first (and most likely last) time in my life when I would ever utter the words, “I love the
