I went to a Superbowl party yesterday. Yup. Me and four men. All together in the entertainment room of a friend of C.C.'s house. Hootin' and hollerin' it up!
Okay, so it was, I thought, a party for couples. So did C.C.
But, when we arrived, there I was. A lone woman amidst four men who quoted stats and results, who knew the pedigree and the running history of each player and team. Knew them by name. By face. By successes. By failures. Knew their history like a squirrel carrying a nut back to its tree home running along the telephone wires knows every dipsy doodle on his path and tail. Deak in. Deak out. Dodge. Leap. Jump. Spiral. Twist. Touchdown!
Seriously. Does it matter how many feet he's rushed or balls he's caught?
Apparently, yes. It does. Matter. Big time.
So, I cannot tell a lie. I enjoyed myself. Got caught up in the game. Caught up in the pomp and circumstance. The patriotism -- nobody does it like America. Flags waving. Hands on hearts. Heads bowed. Trumpets blaring. Voices rising. Eyes shining. Yeah. Nobody does patriotism like America.
Believe me, as a Canadian, I am in awe of my American neighbours zeal. Their commitment to being, American. To expressing their love of country. Of God. Of home.
I'm Canadian, eh? No really. I mean it. I'm Canadian. Oh yea. that's a capital C. Oh. Did I say it too loud? Sorry. Don't mean to offend.
And that's such a huge difference. We Canadians, we carry our patriotism close to our chest. Don't like to play the 'Canada strong and free' card too much. Sure, I'm proud to be Canadian, I think. Well, really, we don't think about it much. Often defining our patriotism as what it is not. No. I'm not American. Or British. Canadian. One of the colonies you say. No, I don't think so. No really, I mean, we're not. A colony. We're our own nation.
Heck, we repatriated our constitution. When was that? Oh, I can't remember exactly. 1980s. I think it was Trudeau. Yeah. Had to be him. You know, brought the constitution back home creating love and harmony and goodwill across all the land (haha -- did I mention Quebec was left out of the amending formula that was required to repatriate said Constitution from Britain?).
Trudeau also introduced the NEP, creating animosity, division and rage across all the land (okay creating rage and a memory that just won't die in the west, primarily Alberta, but we are part of Canada so it counts right?) -- for those south of the border who don't know what the NEP was -- well, let me tell you, the National Energy Program -- or, National Energy Piss-off as we Albertans like to call it.
But, I digress, back to the Superbowl. I had fun. Realized, even when I don't know much about the players, I do know something about the game -- must have been through osmosis -- and really, they do look cute in those tight little leotards don't they?
We even had a pool. Okay, I told the boys. I need some stats. Everyone laughed at me. No you don't. Just pick a number of what the points will equal at the end of the first, second, third and fourth quarters. Add up both teams scores. That's all you need.
Like pinning the tail on the donkey. I took at stab in the dark. Almost won the first quarter until the Packers scored another touchdown. Wow! Did you see that? Amazing. :)
Did I mention, The seafood dip I brought was to die for. Scrumptious. Got it at that little deli over in Altadore. You know, the place next to My Favourite Ice Cream shop. Yeah, that one. Fresh. You been?
The boys looked at me a bit blankly.
Did they care?
Well, they did like the dip. Had a nice bite to it too!
And then, I had to leave early. Alexis was having some stomach issues and after calling the Health Hotline, was told she should go to Emergency to have it checked. So, we spent the rest of the evening eavesdropping and waiting. She's fine -- could be ulcers. Or simply nerves. She's in a play, studying, working, doing way too much in way too little time.
Highlight of the Waiting Room -- better than the game. A man was brought in by his fiancee -- ok, so she hates being the fiancee btw. It was pretty obvious they had been at a Superbowl party somewhere. They were dressed in Green Bay jersey's. The man had apparently, in a moment of great joy for his teams successes, leaped up onto the stage and fallen off. Hit his head. That part was not nice. The fiancee was joined by said man's sister and husband and a friend of the fiancee.
So, first question was... who drove? I mean really. Friend was definitely too drunk. Fiancee seemed a tad tipsy too. Sister and husband arrived separately. Wouldn't an ambulance have been better?
They spoke loud -- ever wonder why drunks think they need to yell everything? I don't get it.
Girlfriend of fiancee took a shine to wounded man's sister, repeating often, "I like you. What's your name? Theresa? Right? Have we met before? I like you. What's your name..."
Eventually, like within five minutes, they started sharing real intimate secrets about themselves. Like the girlfriends news, I'm 32. I know. I don't look it. Nah. I won't live with a guy. You know, I'm Catholic. My mom and dad would kill me.
And then, they got to sharing medical histories. Ooooh, that was fun. Didn't know one person could have had so many broken bones and near misses and accidents -- that would be the fiancee telling on the wounded guy. Also didn't know a fiancee could repeat her beloved's liturgy of medical infractions so many times in one hour or that the friend, who was the only one apparently to see the fall, could reenact the fall so many times, each time getting more and more descriptive and loud. Wow -- she was good.
And of course, the girlfriend had to one up the wounded guy's story... One of my six sisters was in ICU once and.... yeah, it was gripping.
but, not as gripping as when girlfriend leaned across the sister's husband to touch sister's knee and asked, "You want to know my most white trash moment?"
That was when I wanted to leap across the rows of chairs between us, grab her by her cut off, stripped down, Green Bay Packers jersey over see-through bra and cry, NO! I don't.
But I didn't.
I mean, really, that wouldn't have been polite and I am Canadian. we don't make exhibitions of ourselves in public.
Oh. Well. Unless we're drunk of course...
Anyway, as said friend commenced to tell the gripping tale of her 'most' white trash moment, I did want to suggest that from her appearance it might be construed her life had been one 'white trash' moment after another, but again, that would not have been polite.
And, seriously, who am I to judge...
Fortunately, just as the girl was about to give complete and total details of her white trash moment, the orderly came to get me to take me back to Alexis who had missed much of the evening's drama.
Dang, and I missed the end of that riveting story. Just like I missed the end of the Superbowl.
Oh well. Green Bay Packers won. I didn't care. I was rootin' for whomever had the ball. I'm non-partisan that way. I like both teams to have equal opportunity carrying that little pigskin around.
And, I like to see how they dance it up at the end when they cross the finish line, oops, I mean goal line and score one for the team.
Yeah. It was a great afternoon and evening.
Drama. Tears. Heartache. Tension. Anxiety. Exhilaration. Not to mention... great seafood dip!
So... what is a white trash moment anyway? And do I want to catch one?
Have a great day!