Opportunists, The Lot
It all started a few weeks ago, this football social thing. Being tuned in, now, I happened to notice a raffle in my company newspaper. So I entered, and voila, I won! Two free tickets to Sunday's NFL game. Woohoo. I gave the cool cat the good news. I don't mind an outing, especially if it's free. When I got the tickets, I noticed the price posted on ech ticket was $33. That's a far cry from the hundreds that CC has spent, but that is an entirely different inquisition that I will save for a day when I have more energy. Of course, these seats were at a dizzying height, 5 rows from the top of the stadium. Vertigo zone, for sure. And a bit unnerving to be perched so high up with an infant strapped to my body. Anyway, free tickets. As luck and timing would have it, the cool cat ran across a customer who happened to own a sportswear shop. Having no shame whatsoever, he somehow arrived home with official NFL attire for all. A jersey for the Boo, plus a jogging suit and onesie, all embroidered in the team logo. For me, a nice long-sleeved shirt with the team name in big fancy block lettered emboidery across the chest. The cool one got one of those too, plus a jersey to match Boo's. But that's not all. The wardrobe wasn't complete without the official hooded sweatshirt and baseball cap. Truthfully, I'm a bit embarrassed. Like I said, he has no shame. I should mention this windfall was free. That customer must have been very happy with the cool cat's service (he repairs household appliances, and must have saved the day).I must say, Boo is absolutely adorable in his official NFL jersey. How cute can a little guy be?!
The game was actually fun. FUN! There's something about a stadium packed full of people, wearing all sorts of crazy things, from painted faces, painted mowhawked hair, to crazy foam hats. The works. The smell of stadium food filled the cool autumn air -- garlic fries, hot chocolate, beer, hotdogs. The theatrics were a hoot. They had a squadron of drummers who would roll out a beat every once in a while and try to get the crowd all worked up. It was very hypnotic. I got a kick out of the huge screen they use for playback and advertising, and such. Every now and then it would flash the evil eye. The shape of the mascot's eye would fill the screen and flash a glowing neon green to an accompanying ominous sound like that of crashing thunder. I imagine it was meant to be intimidating to the opposing team. Or if the refs made a questionable call, the crowd would boo and the evil eye would flash and crash. I found it quite amusing. Of course, we happened to be seated behind a couple of drunk youngsters who were a bit on the obnoxious side. The alcohol patrol actually showed up to have a little word with them, and they settled down a bit after that. Yes, they had people in yellow jackets with the words Alcohol Patrol or Alcohol Enforcement, I can't remember which, stamped across the back. Very official. They must have cameras all over the place, scanning the crowd for trouble. Because I'm not aware that anybody reported them, and I had a good vantage point for all their antics.
Then there were the girls. Those long haired, long legged beauties out there shaking it up. I used to be in drill team, a hundred years ago, and it reminded me of the glory days. How I wish I were one of those long haired, long legged beauties, shaking it up out there on the field. It looked like so much fun! White go-go boots! We wore white go-go boots! And what a devoted following they have. All those male admirers. Such attention. Of course, anyone who dresses like a stripper and shakes it like a stripper is bound to get some attention. I could possibly be a mascot, because they can wear a big frumpy animal outfit. I'd still dream of being one of those dancing girls. Ah, the life. It's not all it's cracked up to be, though. My sister is in the glamour biz, and one of these dancing girl celebrities was telling her about the pressure of being who she is. She can't go anywhere without full makeup, hair, the works. She has to maintain an image. Tres importante. I could never do that. Remember, I don't have the best hygiene schedule or wardrobe. Sometimes I wear slippers to the supermarket. I do. They're nondescript black, and I always hope nobody notices.
All in all, the game was fun. The parking was ridiculous though. $30. THIRTY DOLLARS! It's an outrage. It's highway robbery. And then there was the idiot drunkard on the way out who was out of control. I don't know what he was all riled up about, but he was engaged in a fist fight in the upper level hall as we were coming out of the stadium seating area. We worked our way around the hubbub and made our way to level two, where another fight was breaking out. Hey, isn't that the same guy, I asked the cool one. Sure enough, it was. Unbelievable. We just shook our heads and made our way to the first level and out. Where is the Security staff when you need them? When we emerged on the street level, we saw a crowd of police officers, and there he was in the midst of them. I was glad to see that he was being arrested. He was handcuffed and under interrogation. I had seen him punch another person in the face, and it sort of looked like that person was a bystander who happened to be in the way. I don't know, though. I wasn't in on it, and wanted to keep my distance, what with Boo and all. It's very unpleasant to see violence like that. I see plenty on tv, but still, it's tv. This was real. It was much different.
Getting home wasn't too bad, once we found our car. It helps to return to the same parking garage where it's parked, though.
The game was actually fun. FUN! There's something about a stadium packed full of people, wearing all sorts of crazy things, from painted faces, painted mowhawked hair, to crazy foam hats. The works. The smell of stadium food filled the cool autumn air -- garlic fries, hot chocolate, beer, hotdogs. The theatrics were a hoot. They had a squadron of drummers who would roll out a beat every once in a while and try to get the crowd all worked up. It was very hypnotic. I got a kick out of the huge screen they use for playback and advertising, and such. Every now and then it would flash the evil eye. The shape of the mascot's eye would fill the screen and flash a glowing neon green to an accompanying ominous sound like that of crashing thunder. I imagine it was meant to be intimidating to the opposing team. Or if the refs made a questionable call, the crowd would boo and the evil eye would flash and crash. I found it quite amusing. Of course, we happened to be seated behind a couple of drunk youngsters who were a bit on the obnoxious side. The alcohol patrol actually showed up to have a little word with them, and they settled down a bit after that. Yes, they had people in yellow jackets with the words Alcohol Patrol or Alcohol Enforcement, I can't remember which, stamped across the back. Very official. They must have cameras all over the place, scanning the crowd for trouble. Because I'm not aware that anybody reported them, and I had a good vantage point for all their antics.
Then there were the girls. Those long haired, long legged beauties out there shaking it up. I used to be in drill team, a hundred years ago, and it reminded me of the glory days. How I wish I were one of those long haired, long legged beauties, shaking it up out there on the field. It looked like so much fun! White go-go boots! We wore white go-go boots! And what a devoted following they have. All those male admirers. Such attention. Of course, anyone who dresses like a stripper and shakes it like a stripper is bound to get some attention. I could possibly be a mascot, because they can wear a big frumpy animal outfit. I'd still dream of being one of those dancing girls. Ah, the life. It's not all it's cracked up to be, though. My sister is in the glamour biz, and one of these dancing girl celebrities was telling her about the pressure of being who she is. She can't go anywhere without full makeup, hair, the works. She has to maintain an image. Tres importante. I could never do that. Remember, I don't have the best hygiene schedule or wardrobe. Sometimes I wear slippers to the supermarket. I do. They're nondescript black, and I always hope nobody notices.
All in all, the game was fun. The parking was ridiculous though. $30. THIRTY DOLLARS! It's an outrage. It's highway robbery. And then there was the idiot drunkard on the way out who was out of control. I don't know what he was all riled up about, but he was engaged in a fist fight in the upper level hall as we were coming out of the stadium seating area. We worked our way around the hubbub and made our way to level two, where another fight was breaking out. Hey, isn't that the same guy, I asked the cool one. Sure enough, it was. Unbelievable. We just shook our heads and made our way to the first level and out. Where is the Security staff when you need them? When we emerged on the street level, we saw a crowd of police officers, and there he was in the midst of them. I was glad to see that he was being arrested. He was handcuffed and under interrogation. I had seen him punch another person in the face, and it sort of looked like that person was a bystander who happened to be in the way. I don't know, though. I wasn't in on it, and wanted to keep my distance, what with Boo and all. It's very unpleasant to see violence like that. I see plenty on tv, but still, it's tv. This was real. It was much different.
Getting home wasn't too bad, once we found our car. It helps to return to the same parking garage where it's parked, though.
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