That’s Life 10/15

Posted
Issue of October 22/ 14 Cheshvan 5771
Leave it to me to go to my first football game and have it delayed by lightening. My sister-in-law’s father had Giants season tickets for 35 years and not once did he ever have a game start late because of lightening strikes. Me? I go to one game in my entire life and the sky turns into a scary pyrotechnic extravaganza. It was not by accident that I went to the Jets/Vikings game last week. Having been offered my choice of games, I placed my request for one at the beginning of the season. While I like a good snow storm as much as the next guy, it’s the need for hand and toe warmers while sitting for hours in tundra-like conditions that does not do it for me.  Although I had expected that game to be old news by now, people are still talking about the freaky weather conditions, not to mention the excitement as Favre, and the drama that surrounds him, took the field. If you have never seen true tailgating before, it is pretty hard to believe. Clearly, many of these people had been there far longer than an hour or so — in fact, it seemed as if they lived there. The inflatable furniture, the grills, the multiple folding tables and the inordinate amount of alcoholic beverages were the least of it. Parking lots are not actually for parking cars — that’s only part of their function as each car required two extra spots. One was for the tables and the other for the seating area. Do not forget the tents. Or the grills. Or the coolers filled with ice. And then there are the numerous games of football going on in the lots as well. Actually maneuvering through the lot without knocking over a keg was half of the experience. Looking around at the inordinate number of people around me in this makeshift community filled with people in green who all spoke the language known as “Jets,” I began to wonder out loud: “Are these people homeless? Don’t they have somewhere to go?” I was told that most of them had been there all day, even though I had only arrived an hour before game time. “Don’t these people have jobs?” I asked. The group I was with looked at me with disdain — it seems, I did not get it. I am not sure what there was to get, however. This place looked like “Tent City” except without the natural disaster that might otherwise start such a gathering. And then, without much warning, the lightening and rainstorm began. Drenched does not do justice to just how soaked we were. I could see the water coming out of my sneakers through the side venting as I took part in the tailgating party we had joined. I was not sure why it was okay to yell things like “Let’s go Jets!” and “Jets rule!” at cars going by and drivers we did not know, but it seemed I was the only one who thought it was strange. It was then time to clean up and while I searched for a garbage bag, it seemed that yet again, I was out of my element. “What should I do with the rest of the corn?” I asked, holding the bowl in my hand. “I’ll take care of that,” said one of the other guys, and he proceeded to take the dish from my hand and while grasping it firmly, threw its contents over his shoulder, corn flying everywhere and landing on various parts of the asphalt. Standing there in a bit of shock, he then gave me one more tidbit of advice. “Just don’t step in the beans,” he said, pointing to the mound of baked beans that someone had disposed of in a similar manner as the corn. Delayed for 45 minutes because of lightening, we had some time to kill before the start of the game and so we did what every good Jew would do – we ate. Having a glatt kosher stand at most of the major sports arenas has made going to games even more enjoyable, though I do feel a bit like an idiot eating fruit salad at a baseball game. Two hot pretzels down, we took our seats in the stands only to be graced by the presence of Fireman Eddie who has the marketable ability to lead 80,000 fans in various cheers. “What does this guy do in his spare time?” I asked coyly. “Is he a motivational speaker?” “What spare time?” I heard in response. Could this really be his full time job?  For all I know, he is the spiritual leader of the crazy people in the parking lot. Clearly, he has a major following, although I am not sure this qualifies as “Aseh l’cha rav.” The rest of the game is history. Raindrops the size of my head cascaded down from the heavens at the close of the first half and my teeth chattered all the way back to my car. To be honest, I did not last longer than the middle of the third quarter, as I had a long drive back to Woodmere and I was already plenty miserable. The game was memorable, that is for sure, and at the end of the day, I had fun. Life lesson, however, will be that my next time around, ponchos for everyone regardless of the weather report and BYOFP (bring your own face paint). MLW