I wore every item of Phillies gear I packed to Minute Maid Park. Here’s how long it took me to get booed.

HOUSTON — I wore my Phillies jersey to Minute Maid Park for Game 1 of the World Series.

I wore my Phillies earrings. I wore my Phillies necklace. (I had packed my Phanatic dangler hat, too, but frankly, it was too hot to wear comfortably.)

Honestly, I was a little nervous wading into enemy territory decked out in full Phillies regalia. Would I get screamed at? Would someone throw a plate of barbecue at me?

Instead of heckling, people held doors for me. One woman dressed in a blue-sequined Astros jacket asked me if I wanted her to take my picture. Folks asked me if I needed help finding places to eat, and they smiled brightly at me.

“Good luck to your team, ma’am,” one man said to me on the streets of downtown Houston. (”Ma’am!”)

“May the best team win,” another man said politely, nodding at my jersey.

» READ MORE: Why I tweet ‘beloved heroes’ after each Phillies win and what it means — to me and my kids

What? It was a little jarring for me as a Philadelphian. I admit I have a chip on my shoulder. I’m not looking for a fight, but I’m not going to turn down a chance for some cordial but spirited verbal fireworks when it comes to talking trash about an opposing team, either.

I asked Houstonians Alex and Cassandra Muñoz if they had any preconceived notions about Philly fans or the Phillies.

» READ MORE: Photos: Phillies come from behind to defeat Astros in Game 1 of the World Series

“Well, you’re not the Yankees,” Alex Muñoz said.

Thanks, I guess?

“Look, the Phillies have some good sticks, they can hit the ball,” said Muñoz. “It’s going to be a good Series.”

In the top of the fourth inning, I sat down at a picnic table on the concourse to write for The Inquirer’s Phillies liveblog. Mick and Amber Ochoa, Astros fans from Houston, noticed my Phils gear (and the can’t-miss-it red Phillies case that keeps my laptop protected) and nodded at me kindly.

“Oh, you got a hit,” Mick said as Rhys Hoskins singled, the Phils’ first hit of the game. At that point, the score was 5-0. Clearly, he was trying to be generous.

At that point the Ochoas — they’re lovely people, they offered me food and told me to get myself to a Buc-ee’s convenience store to see how it stacks up against Wawa — thought the Phils were not much of a threat.

» READ MORE: Phillies red amid a sea of Astros orange: Hundreds of Phils fans swarm Houston

“I’m excited for the Phillies. You deserve this!” Amber said. The Ochoas moved on with warm wishes. By that point, it was 5-3.

Then Heath Poole sat down. Poole, a Houston fan who lives in College Station, Texas, side-eyed my Phillies regalia and gave a little “You’re from Philly, huh?” look.

I promised Poole I wasn’t scary.

“When you snowball Santa and throw batteries, you get that reputation,” Poole said.

No doubt: Philly is louder. Even with the Astros seizing a commanding lead early and the Minute Maid dome closed, the noise level in Houston never reached Citizens Bank Park levels.

The Astros had some nuns waving orange rally towels high above the outfield, but as the game progressed, things started sliding the Phils’ way and it became clear that the nuns’ intervention might not be enough. My reception got slightly frostier.

In the bottom of the ninth, with the score tied at 5, it finally happened.

“Boo!” an Astros fan screamed as I walked past him. (I had stayed put for a few innings, but felt the need to pace in the ninth, and was making loops around the ballpark.)

The jeering almost felt like relief, a language I know.

When I stood behind home plate in the 10th, I kept my eyes fixed on a fan in an Utley jersey who kept taking deep breaths and shifting from foot to foot. We were joined in our fear, in our almost-hoping-but-can’t-quite-let-yourself-hope-all-the-way state.

J.T. Realmuto’s home run loosened things for us Phils fans. David Robertson’s high-wire act — giving up a double to Alex Bregman, walking Yuli Gurriel, uncorking a wild pitch — was tough, but then, a groundout to cap the win the Astros fan had seemed so sure was theirs.

I spent the next 40 minutes giving fist bumps to random strangers in Phillies gear, until the Astros ushers shooed us on our way. I knew no one’s name, but we were all related.

On the slow, happy walk back to my hotel, a fellow Phils fan and I relived the glory.

An Astros fan sped past us, muttering darkly.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said.

Felt like home.