I went to the Packers game in Green Bay, WI on Christmas day. There were more than 69,700 fans in the stadium that day. It was crazy.
But, to begin, my Uncle Don and I were on the road at 9 a.m. Before we left the house, I'd asked my pink magic love 8 ball if a cute boy was going to flirt with me that day. It flashed me the "Yes!" sign, so I was happy as a little schoolgirl. Anyway, we were going to the game with Don's cousin LuAnn and her husband, David. They only live about 35 miles from Green Bay and had given us the free tickets. We arrived at their house between 12:30 and 1 p.m. Game time was 4:00. We had a quick meal of scrambled eggs and ham while waiting for David to get up from his nap. Apparently he needs a nap after church (he's a pastor). Then he finally got up, and they putzed and putzed before we could finally leave.
Now, call me crazy, but it stands to reason that if you're putting your life in someone's hands, i.e. in a car, that person should be able to see. Apparently David doesn't see well, yet there he was, behind the wheel, mildly cursing like only a Lutheran pastor can. He complained about all the traffic, he whined about the parking, he moaned about finding the right street, he muttered about the walk to the stadium.
Since he refused to pay much for parking, we ended up walking about 7 city blocks to the stadium. Not a bad walk, but it's off of Lake Michigan, which equals chilly.
After a gauntlet of drunken tailgaters, a mob of people scrambling to chug beer before it was confiscated, and a brief patting down to search for weapons and/or prohibited snacks and alcohol, we finally got inside the stadium itself. And were promptly rewarded with free Santa hats with a Packers logo on the front. I stuffed mine into my stadium blanket. We squeezed our way through the crowds and into our seats. Without exaggeration, I'd say within 5 minutes of sitting down, the game started. That's how freaking late we were because of the putz twins.
Now, LuAnn was very nice, a little ditsy perhaps, but sweet. Her husband... Well. Let's just continue with the day's events, shall we?
The weather was pretty darn nice for a winter's evening. The first half of the game I was gloveless and kept my jacket unzipped (cuz I'm saucy like that). It started to gently snow about 2 minutes before halftime, then quickly faded away to nothing. The second half of the game, I began to feel the effects of Bears vs. Packers fans. The woman behind me was a die-hard Chicago fan. And she was drunk. She kept screaming, "Wooooo!! Come on, Bearrsssssss!" I'll wait while you imitate her yourself. Don't forget to draw out the 's' on Bears. Go ahead.
Right. Try it? Annoying as hell, isn't it? Now imagine that Drunky Magee was screaming that every 3 minutes into your ear. Yes, a headache was born. Plus we'd had very little to eat all day, so I kept feeling more and more sick.
After the disappointing loss (but not wholly unexpected; Favre sucks), we briefly stopped in the gift shop, where I bought myself a Lambeau Field souvenir, a shot glass with "Curly's Pub" written on it. I collect shot glasses. But that's a different story. Then we marched all the way back to the car, bombarded by Bears fans shouting "In your face!" in our faces, and Packers fans chanting "The Bears still suck! The Bears still suck!"
There were quite a few restaurants open, but David didn't stop at any of them. He just kept driving, and any time LuAnn pointed out a place to stop, he'd act like it was too late to stop there. So by the time we were out of any traffic, we into parts of town that weren't open. LuAnn would tell him to stop and he'd say, "It's Christmas day, LuAnn. Everything's closed. What do you want me to do, LuAnn?" He spoke to her like she was a naughty 4-year old, and he said her name the same way you'd call someone a liar. And the worse my headache got, the harder it was for me not to punch him in his stupid head, pastor or not.
Anyway, Don drive us the rest of the way home. I mostly slept because I knew the alternative was puking. We arrived around 1:30 a.m. and broke out the Christmas dinner leftovers that everyone else had enjoyed at home.
I went up to bed and noticed my magic love 8 ball sitting where I'd left it. I glared at it and called it a stinking liar.
Oh HAI blog
8 years ago
11 comments:
Those damn magic eight balls!!
*Shaking fist in wrath*
And pastors - since when do pastors get to be jerks?
Ugh. Sorry bout Pastor Dave ruining your day. Perhaps it was his irritability that caused the magic of the eight ball to go for a curve.
Yeah, and um, yeah.
wow. That guy is a major JERK.
Agreed. Definitely a jerkface.
Yeah, I don't know what happened with the 8 ball. No flirting. Unless you count the guy next to me in the souvenir shop who called his friends fuckers, then turned and apologized to me for his language.
That's a come-on if I've ever heard it - anything with the f-word involved is a flirtation, for real. Take it from me...look at how successful my love life is....oh, nevermind....
That sounds horrid! I wish you would have smacked Pastor Dave upside the head. Really, who talks to his wife like that?!
On an unrelated note, I'm glad I'm not a football fan. I just couldn't take it.
GOOOO BENGALS!!!! That's all I haveto say about how I feel towards football - I've waited 16 years to say that, so let me savor it.
I hate my pink love eight ball, too (however, I keep consulting with it, dang it!!)
Too bad the Pack didn't win, then it would have been an awesome experience.....and what's up with not eating. Hello, it's Wisconsin! Brats, beer and cheese. Stupid Pastor!
Are we going to hear about Part 2 soon? Cause I'm bored.
Does it involve you returning there and slapping Pastor Dave's front teeth to timbuctoo?
Be patient, my little bebes. Tomorrow I'll post part 2. And it doesn't involve slapping teeth. Just some troublesome turkey.
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