First Stop: Wrigley

Navigating to Wrigley Field didn't seem to present too much of a challenge, especially for someone who's used to traveling on subway cars nearly every day. And to that end, it wasn't. Just five stops up the Red Line from Chicago St. station, the park proved simple to reach by train.

It was getting on that train that caused all the problems.

A quick breakfast stop and a walk to the station delayed me a matter of minutes, so soon after leaving my hotel, I ventured underground for the first time. Everything instantly looked so familiar -- the automated machines eating up cash and spitting out tickets, the commuters and tourists bustling about, the signs directing me exactly where to go (and where not to go). So I stepped up, bought my ticket, slipped it into the card reader and was met with a low buzzing sound. The card wouldn't take, so I tried it again. Bzzz. I flipped it around and tried it again. Bzzz. Backwards now, frontwards, inside out and upside down. Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Looking around, I saw that an impatient line had formed behind me. To my sides, a group of elderly folks went whizzing past. So I did what any embarrassed tourist would do: I stepped out of line, regrouped and stepped in again. Success.

My reward for all this was a trip to Chicago's North Side, where the subway (or the 'L,' as it's more rightfully called in this spot) bursts above ground and offers the first few scenic glimpses of Wrigley. Still roughly three hours before game time, the car was already littered with Cubs hats, Cubs jerseys and -- you guessed it -- Cubs fans. And it's no wonder. Wrigley is everything that it seems to be on television, even if the ivy hasn't yet grown on the outfield walls. The stadium is as quirky as it gets, from the rooftop seats to the old-fashioned scoreboard to the massive bleacher sections spanning the outfield.

With time to kill before the Mets -- and presumably, the Mets fans -- arrived, I headed up to the press box, a sizeable room enclosed in glass. Note to sportswriters: be in shape. While the league's other stadiums almost all boast elevators and escalators for members of the media, Wrigley has steps. And ramps. And then more steps. Huffing and puffing, I finally made my way to the top, only to be greeted by some of the more stunning views of Wrigley I had ever seen. A few workers bustled by, but otherwise the park remained silent. Even so, I suspected that outside of its walls, Wrigleyville was already buzzing.