Super Bowl Blog/2007 Comeback Blog/I'm Lazy Screw Off
***Editor’s Note***
I started this entry way back in February and didn’t have the stomach to finish it. But I’m headed down to San Diego on Sunday for the first Bears game of 2007 and I needed to expel the demons.
Sorry I missed a few entries at the end of the season. I got busy. I got superstitious. I can’t make any promises about this year but if I feel the Bears need my self-involved blog to keep them going every week, I will deliver. Bear down.
February 7, 2007
First of all let me start by saying this is probably going to ramble. There’s a lot I’m still digesting, much of it not very well.
Secondly, Devin Hester’s opening kick-off was the most exciting moment of my life. We’ll get to that later.
I was lucky enough to be at Super Bowl XLI in “Miami” although I think the game was technically played in a swamp somewhere in Alabama.
My friend Ike got two tickets through his work nine days before the game and long after I resigned myself to watching the event from Los Angeles.
Long story short we hopped on an Air Trans flight from LA to Miami with a connection in Atlanta on Saturday morning. Here’s where the adventure begins…
LAX, Saturday, 10:00 AM:
What do Ike and I do as soon as we arrive at Los Angeles International Airport? Why go to Le King of Burgers, of course. Great way to start the trip. Whoppers, Double Stackers, fries and the disgustingly new Chicken Fries are just what you want to be carrying in your bowels as you fly to Miami, a place known for black beans and rum.
Atlanta:
Not much time to kill here. Gotta make it to the gate ASAP. Oh what the hell, I guess we have time to stop off at Nathan’s and spend twenty-eight dollars on cheese fries and mini-corn dog bites. Another wise gastronomic choice, boys. Good thinking.
Miami, Saturday, 11:30 PM
Ike and I cruise out of the airport, hop in a cab and sit in Saturday night traffic heading to South Beach. Ike is already cursing the city’s name.
Eventually we get to my friend’s place where he has two solid futons awaiting our arrival. Ike is in for the night. He wants to get a good night’s sleep, wake up and go for a run on the beach and generally feel good when we go to the Super Bowl the next day.
This is a good idea. After all, we did fly across the county to watch our beloved Chicago Bears play in the Super Bowl. Staying in. Good call.
I throw on a collared shirt and head out to meet our buddies Hayes and Jeremy at club.
Did someone say, “Mickey Rourke”? Oh yeah, he’s sitting in our booth at some ridiculous club owned by a friend of Hayes’. I pay for nothing, drink champagne and vodka and, generally try to not get caught staring at weirdo Mickey Rourke as he and Jeremy discuss the direction of the Republican party.
SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
Let’s just skip ahead to Sunday morning. Nothing else happened Saturday night. That’s the end of it.
Boom. We’re on our way to the stadium which isn’t remotely close to Miami. We get there, park 17 miles from our gate and start walking. It’s already drizzling. There’s a different buzz in the air at a Super Bowl. I’ve never felt anything like it. One way or another, this is going to be something I never forget.
And then there’s a maze of gates and security we have to get through. It takes the buzz away and all of a sudden you’re thinking about that dry couch in LA and all the snacks at the Super Bowl party you’re missing.
I’d say the Bears brought more fans than Indy but only because some of Indy’s fans are conjoined twins connected at the head and I’m counting them as one.
Inside the stadium, we find our seats, meet some friends for beers and can’t say anything to each other except “I can’t believe we’re at the f*%king Super Bowl!” It’s all a blur.
Kick-off.
I’m standing when Devin Hester sprints pass Adam Vinatieri.
I come to as Hester is crossing the end zone. Apparently I screamed so loud the flow of oxygen supplying my brain is temporarily cut off. I blacked out and my knees buckled. I once screamed so loud during a Bulls double overtime loss to the Celtics that I saw stars like in one of those cartoons.
I stand back up (luckily I stumbled back into my seat) and begin French kissing anyone in a Bears jersey within six rows. No one complains. Bears are up 7-0 and Devin Hester could probably punch Barak Obama in the face and win a popularity contest in Chicago
This is the greatest moment of my life. Either I get married and have kids or this remains THE GREATEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE.
And then the rest of the game happened and I don’t want to talk about it.
It’s pouring rain when we exit the stadium. 70,000 people want to get a cab and there are approximately three to be found.
We walk for miles. We walk through muddy fields and dark strip malls. Passing buses spray with us filthy water and people are coming to blows over the scattered taxis.
Florida is a scum-infested, backwards-run hamlet. It’s like Australia but that joke about all the criminals being sent there is funny because it happened like 300 years ago. Florida is the new Australia. Who doesn’t organize twenty goddamn cab lines after the Super Bowl?
Some of our friends are hosting a post-Super Bowl party at a hotel. We go because my throat is kinda soar from the Hester-kick-off-screaming incident and a few vodka Red Bulls will ease my pain.
This “party” consists of three frozen crab legs and some idiot in a Colts jersey. Worst party ever.
Monday morning feels like we came to Mardi Gras and found out someone we knew died and had to go to a funeral instead. Everyone at the airport looks terrible. Ike hands me a pill. I take it and wake up in Los Angeles. Thank God. It was just a dream. The Bears are going to win the Super Bowl THIS year. In Arizona. Sweet, I can drive there.
I started this entry way back in February and didn’t have the stomach to finish it. But I’m headed down to San Diego on Sunday for the first Bears game of 2007 and I needed to expel the demons.
Sorry I missed a few entries at the end of the season. I got busy. I got superstitious. I can’t make any promises about this year but if I feel the Bears need my self-involved blog to keep them going every week, I will deliver. Bear down.
February 7, 2007
First of all let me start by saying this is probably going to ramble. There’s a lot I’m still digesting, much of it not very well.
Secondly, Devin Hester’s opening kick-off was the most exciting moment of my life. We’ll get to that later.
I was lucky enough to be at Super Bowl XLI in “Miami” although I think the game was technically played in a swamp somewhere in Alabama.
My friend Ike got two tickets through his work nine days before the game and long after I resigned myself to watching the event from Los Angeles.
Long story short we hopped on an Air Trans flight from LA to Miami with a connection in Atlanta on Saturday morning. Here’s where the adventure begins…
LAX, Saturday, 10:00 AM:
What do Ike and I do as soon as we arrive at Los Angeles International Airport? Why go to Le King of Burgers, of course. Great way to start the trip. Whoppers, Double Stackers, fries and the disgustingly new Chicken Fries are just what you want to be carrying in your bowels as you fly to Miami, a place known for black beans and rum.
Atlanta:
Not much time to kill here. Gotta make it to the gate ASAP. Oh what the hell, I guess we have time to stop off at Nathan’s and spend twenty-eight dollars on cheese fries and mini-corn dog bites. Another wise gastronomic choice, boys. Good thinking.
Miami, Saturday, 11:30 PM
Ike and I cruise out of the airport, hop in a cab and sit in Saturday night traffic heading to South Beach. Ike is already cursing the city’s name.
Eventually we get to my friend’s place where he has two solid futons awaiting our arrival. Ike is in for the night. He wants to get a good night’s sleep, wake up and go for a run on the beach and generally feel good when we go to the Super Bowl the next day.
This is a good idea. After all, we did fly across the county to watch our beloved Chicago Bears play in the Super Bowl. Staying in. Good call.
I throw on a collared shirt and head out to meet our buddies Hayes and Jeremy at club.
Did someone say, “Mickey Rourke”? Oh yeah, he’s sitting in our booth at some ridiculous club owned by a friend of Hayes’. I pay for nothing, drink champagne and vodka and, generally try to not get caught staring at weirdo Mickey Rourke as he and Jeremy discuss the direction of the Republican party.
SUPER BOWL SUNDAY
Let’s just skip ahead to Sunday morning. Nothing else happened Saturday night. That’s the end of it.
Boom. We’re on our way to the stadium which isn’t remotely close to Miami. We get there, park 17 miles from our gate and start walking. It’s already drizzling. There’s a different buzz in the air at a Super Bowl. I’ve never felt anything like it. One way or another, this is going to be something I never forget.
And then there’s a maze of gates and security we have to get through. It takes the buzz away and all of a sudden you’re thinking about that dry couch in LA and all the snacks at the Super Bowl party you’re missing.
I’d say the Bears brought more fans than Indy but only because some of Indy’s fans are conjoined twins connected at the head and I’m counting them as one.
Inside the stadium, we find our seats, meet some friends for beers and can’t say anything to each other except “I can’t believe we’re at the f*%king Super Bowl!” It’s all a blur.
Kick-off.
I’m standing when Devin Hester sprints pass Adam Vinatieri.
I come to as Hester is crossing the end zone. Apparently I screamed so loud the flow of oxygen supplying my brain is temporarily cut off. I blacked out and my knees buckled. I once screamed so loud during a Bulls double overtime loss to the Celtics that I saw stars like in one of those cartoons.
I stand back up (luckily I stumbled back into my seat) and begin French kissing anyone in a Bears jersey within six rows. No one complains. Bears are up 7-0 and Devin Hester could probably punch Barak Obama in the face and win a popularity contest in Chicago
This is the greatest moment of my life. Either I get married and have kids or this remains THE GREATEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE.
And then the rest of the game happened and I don’t want to talk about it.
It’s pouring rain when we exit the stadium. 70,000 people want to get a cab and there are approximately three to be found.
We walk for miles. We walk through muddy fields and dark strip malls. Passing buses spray with us filthy water and people are coming to blows over the scattered taxis.
Florida is a scum-infested, backwards-run hamlet. It’s like Australia but that joke about all the criminals being sent there is funny because it happened like 300 years ago. Florida is the new Australia. Who doesn’t organize twenty goddamn cab lines after the Super Bowl?
Some of our friends are hosting a post-Super Bowl party at a hotel. We go because my throat is kinda soar from the Hester-kick-off-screaming incident and a few vodka Red Bulls will ease my pain.
This “party” consists of three frozen crab legs and some idiot in a Colts jersey. Worst party ever.
Monday morning feels like we came to Mardi Gras and found out someone we knew died and had to go to a funeral instead. Everyone at the airport looks terrible. Ike hands me a pill. I take it and wake up in Los Angeles. Thank God. It was just a dream. The Bears are going to win the Super Bowl THIS year. In Arizona. Sweet, I can drive there.
posted by David Stassen at 9:51 PM
