I had my alarm clock set for a Sunday morning. I can’t remember the last time I set my alarm clock to wake me on a Sunday morning! These are rare moments, that day of the week held sacred by soft pillows, body heat infused blankets, and only leaving the comfy confines when the body is fully ready to approach the day. My alarm went off and it was okay, actually it was more than okay. I was on my way to my first Packer game. It’s about time right.
Armed in layers of any color other than navy and orange, dangerous with some gas station java and a disappointing breakfast sandwich (acquired only because I was running late trying to put together my warm, not get my ass kicked outfit because I actually own a lot of orange), my co-worker and I hit Hwy 29 east to Green Bay to see the pack attempt to annihilate the Bears.
Considering that this was somewhat a business related outing, better behavior was encouraged. Upon arriving to the madness that is tailgating I wished I could be joining in on the debauchery but in a way I am glad that I couldn’t be slamming beers before noon because I was able to take in much more. The elaborate outfits, the various ways of teasing the other team, and the history that is Titletown.
We did end up having a beer before noon but it was at our seats. We were seated about half-way deep in the bowl in the section above the Packer’s tunnel. It is absolutely true when people say that there isn’t a bad seat in Lambeau, and the skybox people, you can have them. I was thrilled to be in the stands and I don’t think I would ever want to view another game there in any other way.
I must admit though, that it was not until recently in my life that I gave two beans about football and then it is only the Packers. I used to be quite a non-football fan actually. When I told my brother I was going to a Packer game, he pretty much laughed and said “You going to a football game is like me going to a Celine Dion concert.” The comparison was funny, however I am not a Celine Dion fan. I then proceeded to remind him that he did attend a Deborah (Debbie) Gibson show in Mpls. but it was out of novelty. I don’t know whom the joke ended up on.
Of course the crowed was energized, good natured and fun loving. Even the twenty-something male Bears fans sitting next to us were being snarky in a good-humored way. The roar of the crowd when the team came out of the tunnel, the start of the game, the commercial breaks, the desperate need for a hot cocoa and a slice of pizza 3rd quarter, and the touchdowns! The Pack kicked Chicago’s windy city booty. I could not have asked for a better game to attend and my ex-wannabe hipster ass was quite elated. The game seemed to go so much faster when actually there. It was certainly an unforgettable experience and I have many pictures and a foam noodle to remind me. In the meantime I hope my brother has a nice time at a Celine Dion concert, maybe he will get tickets for Christmas!
Upon leaving Lambeau Field, I did have this sentimental feeling of having some sort of connection with Wisconsin. I don’t think it was so much of pride as it was more as if I officially became a citizen of a state which I lived in my entire life, actually, I think that was just me being frozen at the home of Frozen Tundra. Go Pack Go! The Bears Still Suck!