I was in [redacted] doing [redacted] for [redacted] when it dawned on me that A.) it was Sunday so why the hell was I working so hard, 2.) it was Superbowl Sunday and why the hell didn’t I know that already, and III.) the Universe rarely provides a better excuse to sit on your ass drinking beer than the Superbowl. Who am I to ignore the Universe when it wants me to drink beer?
So, despite an anti-social streak a mile wide, I wandered into a nearby bar. It was perfect! A crowd that was happy (but not too happy). TVs that were present but not ginormous. No ferns. No hipsters. No tofu. No bitchy people. No psychotic “true fans” overly hyped on the moment. Nobody passed out on the floor… yet.
A small pack of children were running around and… did my eyes deceive me? No, I’d seen it. The kids were waving American flags! Waving flags and playing tag amid the gathering crowd of not-yet-but-planning-on-it drunks. Waving. American. Flags!
One of them, a boy, was getting jabbed by his sister who’d decided a flag made a great spear. Instead of running to mommy, he kicked her in the shins and they all laughed before collectively attacking the pool table and starting a game of what looked like “Calvinball“. Happy kids acting like little maniacs. Perfect!
The food was deep fried. The beer was macro-brew. All was deplorable. I settled in.