|Okay, so I wasn’t at Brad Templeton’s awesome SuperBowl game party http://www.templetons.com where the game was recorded (using an open source linux box running MythTV, and recording and playing back in widescreen HDTV) and everyone goes on a hike and then back to watch only the SuperBowl commercials. That is, after all, the best part of the game. Unfortunately, I was here instead of there, but I still didn’t watch the SuperBowl. I did hear that Paul McCartney did not whip IT out during the game, although he could afford to whip it out twice and pay the unconstitutional FCC fines if he really wanted to do so. I was hoping he would.
I attended the SuperBowl at Stanford back in ‘87 – but that was just for the party…actually it’s more of a party every year at the Big Game than it was at that SuperBowl. Even if Stanford loses, it was more of a party. I don’t even remember who the 49ers were playing. Pat and I had been invited to some pre-SuperBowl party with lots of jocks. We stopped at a liquor store (to pick up some tasteful non- Bud and Zima http://www.zimaxxx.com/index.aspx …remember that sweet, sticky ’80s crap – that we knew was going to be flowing). All of a sudden the thought of kicking back with a bunch of testosterone-charged men who actually belched in public just seemed like a revolting idea.
So we got a wild idea that we could actually get into the SuperBowl without a ticket – why this seemed like a good idea is now beyond me – perhaps we were thinking that if we were going to be bored watching football, we might as well be somewhere bigger than some jock’s houseboat in Sausalito packed to the rafters with belching guys. The ocean seemed to small at that point. We needed a stadium. We made a quick executive decision and bought a bunch of expensive booze, stuck it into a cooler and strapped it to the back of the Fiero.
We were also wearing our shortest skits and our sexiest smiles and feeling confident we’d be successful in our mission. After a brief discussion with a guy posted and the gate, we gained entry (sans our cooler). It was a blast, we had to keep moving around because we didn’t have seats and it was more than sold out. Today, I would have to be forced to watch the SuperBowl (the only football I watch is one played on a soccer field). If I was ever given a mandate to watch a SuperBowl, I picture myself in that scene as Alex in Clockwork Orange (eyes pried open tied into a seat). I mean, what circumstances would that possibly be?
Elaine Kreston http://www.elainekreston.com and I were dining at the Hotel Del http://hoteldelcoronado.com/about and finishing up with some drinks in the turn-of-the-century bar before heading off the island and there was some football game last month playing on the TV. Truth be told, we were waiting around plotting to crash the Pearson Publishers banquet party we’d stumbled upon.
We had been hanging around Old Town San Diego just the night before and seen John Irving having dinner with two couples at a Mexican place. And there we were…no little black dresses stashed in the trunk to slip into and walk past the banquet room door and into a seat at a table The Cool Book People. Damn. The banquet had just started and people filed by dressed to the nines, leaving us with the jocks and their bored wives watching the game.
We wondered around and found some of the mucky-mucks of the company having a private party in a back room, toasting to someone’s new position and gifting and hugging. We stood by the open back door listening; people who pay for rooms with doors should close them. Or not. We went back to the bar and ordered some coffee wondering if we were going to hang out until the awards dinner was through and if we really wanted to meet up with The Cool Book People at 11 at night with a drive ahead of us. While we were waiting to be inspired with a decision, we asked our bartender Jeremy (who seemed to be very into the Chargers game) if he had a choice to go to the SuperBowl or do ANYthing else in the world - but only at the same time as the SuperBowl - would he pass up the SuperBowl? He shrugged and continued to serve the bar potatoes - only there because they had been forced to pry themselves away from their couches and widescreen TVs (showing two teams of men with large asses running around in spandex - or whatever - to pry a ball from each other) to accompany their wives on vacation. You know, in a fancy hotel like this I always expect to have a bartender like Lloyd http://www.indelibleinc.com/kubrick/films/shining/images/bartend.pg in The Shining.
Well, throughout the next hour, we continued to ask Jeremy about the SuperBowl option – and when our final cups of coffee were filled, he finally (knowing his acknowledgment of the question was needed for the decision on the tipometer) answered. He begrudgingly said, “Yes, I’d go somewhere else to do something really good.” (We were sure he was talking about doing a supermodel or two on some beach.) “Come on guys, I love football.” Well, we had our answer. He hadn’t even been interested in the question of whether it would be his team playing….
We didn't hang around for the Cool Book People to come back, instead we bid Jeremy a farewell and left a good tip to help him get to next year's SuperBowl.