More Steve Garvey fan fiction for dat azz.
Garvey seemed to go out of his way to sit next to Salzar during flights. Some of the other team members noticed this. "What's with Steve? Why does he always sit next to Luis?" they'd ask.
Show always made a point to sit anywhere except next to Salazar. Or next to Templeton. Or next to Martinez. Or even Gwynn. In a pinch Show would choose to sit next to Hawkins or Kennedy, but his preference was Garvey. Garvey looked like a safe bet.
Unfortunately for Show, Garvey had other plans.
Show set his sights on 11 B, right next to Garvey's occupied 11A. However, Show found himself red-faced after Garvey quickly shuffled a newspaper and seat cushion into the chair next to him right as Show was beginning to shift his weight to sit down. Show caught himself before gravity had fully taken over, but his hamstrings hurt for a couple days due to the unexpected seat block.
"Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah, um, Luis is sitting here," Garvey managed to sputter.
Show quickly found another seat a couple aisles back without so much as giving a second glance at Garvey, but much to his chagrin it was next to Flannery. That bastard was always fraternizing with the likes of Wiggins and Templeton. Show didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit.
From where he sat Show could still see the newspaper and seat cushion residing where he had planned to plant his rear end. "What the f**k, Steve?" he muttered to himself, too low for anyone to decipher but loud enough that Flannery knew it was best to pretend to be asleep for the duration of the flight. Show was in one of his "moods."
It was a good thing Flannery was already feigning a snore by the time Salazar got on the plane. Show's grip on the armrest was enough to choke a buffalo when he witnessed Garvey quickly push aside the seat cushion and newspaper while motioning for Salazar to sit down. Show whispered to himself in disbelief. "Benedict. F**king. Arnold."
The next two hours Show could hardly take his eyes off the horror unfolding in front of him. Garvey gesticulating like mad while asking almost every question imaginable about burritos, and Salazar uncomfortably doing the best he could to answer while emphasizing that he really wasn't much of a "Burrito Guy" himself.
"Oh, come on. Don't be modest!" Garvey laughed. "You are King Burrito! I bow before your burrito royalty." Salazar wished for a plane crash. Later he confided in McReynolds and Gossage that he had "never been so offended in his life."
Somehow, time passed, even if it sometimes felt as if it were going in reverse. The plane landed and the men found their way to their hotel rooms.
Flannery, exhausted from impersonating a sleeping person all evening, fell into a deep slumber immediately.
Salazar cried himself to sleep.
Show drew a number 6 on his pillow with a permanent marker that was running low on ink and proceeded to punch the pillow for the next four hours while chanting "Traitor! Traitor!" with each blow.
Garvey called room service and was disappointed to learn the kitchen couldn't make a burrito for him.