So I went to my first Patriots game ever last night.
I know, I know. It seems ludicrous that I've not been to one yet. But, remember, I was 17 when the Patriots won their first title, so tickets have been pretty much impossible to get for my entire adult life. Add to that being away at college for 4 years, and the bottom line is that I just never got around to making the trek out to Foxboro. This year, though, with the Patriots in need of a little extra spirit and faith from their fans, I decided that it was time to lose my Gillette Stadium virginity and go the distance for our nationally televised battle against the Broncos. Never one to skimp on the team spirit, I designed the following look:
My sister had equally ridiculous facepaint, and we set out in our matching Tom Brady jerseys to Foxboro. Now, initially we had planned to bring tailgate accoutrements; however, it occurred to us while we were planning that there would be plenty of men tailgating who would no doubt share their hospitality with us. Accordingly, we set out armed only with 4 Diet Cokes and the following:
Yes, that entire bottle (plus beers) would be gone by the end of the night. We don't mess around. So we get to Gillette and immediately befriend a cluster of cute 20-somethings from Malden who are generous with their refreshments but less than enthusiastic about our offers to paint their faces to match ours. Sad! There's a guy wandering around in a full Elvis costume, for some reason, and several people stop my sister and I to ask if they can take pictures with us as we make our way over to Gillette.
As you can imagine, the game was a joyful and boisterous affair; the crowd was roaring for blood even when we were up 34-7 in the 4th quarter. Seeing Andre Tippett there to be honored for his election to the Hall of Fame was particularly amazing; he's a relic of Patriots days long past that I'm frankly too young to remember, and it lent a sense of history and continuity to the beautiful stadium that houses a team that some forget existed long before Tom Brady made his first start under center.
I wish I had some more, er, profound reflections on the game to share with you, but I'm not going to lie: half a bottle of C-Mo and a few cold ones rendered me somewhat silly for the duration. Eating would probably have helped, and I did send my sister to get me food at several junctures throughout the night. Invariably, she would come back minus the $20 I'd given her and with no food, but with mustard or something smeared on her chin. She is not to be trusted. Leaving the stadium was the real ordeal: not because of the traffic, mind you, but because I'd elected to wear these boots that have a slight heel to them without pausing to reflect that the parking lot might be gravel. So, yes, I ate it more than a few times as we walked back, much to the delight of several carloads of gentlemen attempting to coax us into their cars.
My sister was pretty frustrated with me at this point, too: she'd sobered up enough to drive home as I'd continued to imbibe, and couldn't remember where we'd parked. Now, I TOTALLY REMEMBERED where we'd parked, but was having some trouble communicating that. See, I kept telling her we were in the Tedy Bruschi lot, to which she would respond, "THERE IS NO TEDY BRUSCHI LOT RETARD THE LOTS ARE NUMBERED." Which I suppose is true. What I MEANT, though, was Lot 54, which was, in fact, where our car was. However, I guess it didn't occur to me that I might not be communicating that in the most effective way. When we did finally locate our car, I smugly pointed out to my sister that we were, in fact, parked in the lot I'd said. She looked like she wanted to kill me.
Anyway, it was a great game, and I'm thrilled that I finally, FINALLY got to see my Patriots play live. Also, I have a hangover.