After several frozen cocktails at Under the Volcano on empty stomachs, converted Houstonians Jeremy C. Little (a publicist) and Colin “Dabbo” Dabbs (a junior high history teacher) finally decided to do it. Eight days, 10 Major League ballparks, the Budweiser brewery, and enough fried food to give Carlos Lee the gout. It’s the Great American Bro'd Trip and this is the account of day seven.

Day 7: Washington, DC to Elkerton, MD: 61 miles (in theory)

Stuff white people like: No. 80, the idea of soccer

Sorry to rip off someone else’s observation, but it’s true. Americans — especially around World Cup time — love to pretend they have an interest in soccer. It could be a byproduct of all that “multicultural” mumbo jumbo (aka Liberal Guilt for Preteens) they brainwash school kids with these days, or it could be that Americans enjoy decorative scarves.

At any rate, DuPont Circle was rocking and rolling with hipster soccer enthusiasts who couldn’t name a single member of the U.S. team. Final result of the mega-hyped USA-England match: a 1-1 draw. And everyone thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Hello? They freakin’ tied! Sports should be like love, politics, and Mario Kart; there’s one winner and everyone else falls rightfully into the “loser” category.

Even the NHL figured that one out. If these guys are so tough — which soccer fans will tell until they’re blue in the face while ignoring all of the flagrant flopping — then they should play until somebody wins. America is a nation obsessed with winning, that’s why soccer will never matter here.

Welcome to Bland Ballpark where the team has a case of the Mondays
“It looks like an office park,” says a very confused Dabbo while looking up at the cinderblock fortress that is Nationals Park, home of the craptastic Washington Nationals. Yeah, it’s pretty bland, like dry white toast bland.

I’m surprised there weren’t cubicles built into the bleachers. As one of the newest ballparks in the Majors, the blandness of the design is disappointing, particularly having just visited The Jake and PNC with Camden next on the itinerary.

To Baltimore ... The long way
The distance between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore isn’t terribly long. Unfortunately, Washington, D.C. city planners designed the road system on an Etch-A-Sketch during an earthquake, so it took 45 minutes to get out of the city.

Mercifully, the notorious traffic between the two metropolitan areas was light, even for a Saturday night, so we only missed the first inning of the Orioles -Mets tilt. On the way into the stadium I managed to snag a photo with the Baltimore Ravens cheerleaders (all of life is timing). Side note to Dabbo’s fiancé: Only I had my photo taken, Colin looked at his shoes the whole time. I swear.

I’m not sure what I can say about Camden Yards that hasn’t been said a million times before. Combine my assessment of The Jake with PNC and that about nails it.

The place is borderline perfect.

We bought some excellent cheap seats in the outfield and spent the game counting all of the former Astros that play for Baltimore (Miguel Tejada, Mike Lamb, and Ty Wigginton) — all of whom are having relatively decent years in the ultra competitive AL East.

Paging Ed Wade, you’re not good at your chosen profession, and probably shouldn’t do it anymore.

Aside from the stadium, the highlight was meeting a family of Mets fans from Staten Island — all cops — who were also on a national baseball tour. I still can’t quite figure out Mets fans. They’re either immensely obnoxious, or they’re like these folks. I’ve never wanted to be part of a group hug more in my life.

They have a special shampoo for that
If you’re ever in the mood for truck stop hookers and crystal meth made in a Motel 6 bathroom, Elkerton, Maryland has you covered. I’ve never been legitimately frightened while dead bolted inside a hotel room before.

I’ve also never been so happy to have to developed an affinity for old man pajamas — full body coverage was definitely the right move. Colin has convinced himself that the itching is a result of the hard water. I wonder if the front desk clerk was aware that she is running a budget brothel.

Tomorrow: A New York state of mind ...