It’s All About the Beer
I wasn’t allowed to bring my purse into Gillette Stadium for Patriots' opening day. I was told that it was because of new NFL rules, as if somehow my tiny backpack might have held an explosive device that would have leveled the stadium and Ozzy Osbourne, rather than my wallet, cell phone, bandages, and some tampons.
Instead, the Patriots’ owners encourage other forms of mass destruction by inviting game attendees to drink as much as possible and then get in their cars and drive down I-495. It isn’t okay to have a bottle of ibuprophen, but it is okay to drink 12 margaritas during the course of a 3 hour game, or the equivalent in beer, Mike’s Lemonade, or various Seagram’s Coolers. In fact, it is more than okay. It is actually the main activity of the game. The people attending this game are more than likely the same ones who will pay $9 to see a movie (without beer) and will stay in their seats for the two hours, perhaps getting up once to void. Once at a football game, however, the event that is going on in front of them is completely superfluous. Even though they may have paid as much as $75 for nosebleed altitude seats, they won’t watch the game, oh no. They will walk, then stumble up and down the stairs at least a half dozen times to pay $7 for a beer, nay, $14 for two beers, which is all that they are allowed to purchase at one time. Incidentally, the walking up and down completely obscures the view for the eleven people who actually went to the stadium to watch the Patriots play football.
I’d like to go see another game, because watching this is really just as entertaining as the game, which I can’t see anyway, because there’s some drunk guy in front of me waving and cheering and pointing to his hat which tells us that the Patriots won the superbowl last year, like we might not know that. I’m sure he’ll be at the next game too, because all of the seats belong to season’s ticket holders. However, I can drink really good beer in my house for about $1.20 a bottle. I can watch the Patriots play on the TV in my den and be able to see a lot more of the game. Think of all the money I’ll save. Maybe I’ll ask my son to stand in front of the television while I’m trying to watch and do a Neanderthal impression. I’ll feel like I’m really there.
Instead, the Patriots’ owners encourage other forms of mass destruction by inviting game attendees to drink as much as possible and then get in their cars and drive down I-495. It isn’t okay to have a bottle of ibuprophen, but it is okay to drink 12 margaritas during the course of a 3 hour game, or the equivalent in beer, Mike’s Lemonade, or various Seagram’s Coolers. In fact, it is more than okay. It is actually the main activity of the game. The people attending this game are more than likely the same ones who will pay $9 to see a movie (without beer) and will stay in their seats for the two hours, perhaps getting up once to void. Once at a football game, however, the event that is going on in front of them is completely superfluous. Even though they may have paid as much as $75 for nosebleed altitude seats, they won’t watch the game, oh no. They will walk, then stumble up and down the stairs at least a half dozen times to pay $7 for a beer, nay, $14 for two beers, which is all that they are allowed to purchase at one time. Incidentally, the walking up and down completely obscures the view for the eleven people who actually went to the stadium to watch the Patriots play football.
I’d like to go see another game, because watching this is really just as entertaining as the game, which I can’t see anyway, because there’s some drunk guy in front of me waving and cheering and pointing to his hat which tells us that the Patriots won the superbowl last year, like we might not know that. I’m sure he’ll be at the next game too, because all of the seats belong to season’s ticket holders. However, I can drink really good beer in my house for about $1.20 a bottle. I can watch the Patriots play on the TV in my den and be able to see a lot more of the game. Think of all the money I’ll save. Maybe I’ll ask my son to stand in front of the television while I’m trying to watch and do a Neanderthal impression. I’ll feel like I’m really there.
posted by kingoftherabbits at
2:20 PM
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