I say to the universe--I am a Packer fan!

I say to the universe--I am a Packer fan!

The universe answers--Here are some tickets to the Packer-Titan game!

An so, (not And so, but AN SO), last Thursday, we went to a Packer Game. At Lambeau Field. My first football game ever. To appreciate this, read this.

Or don't. It's all free and all good.

Also, it must be said, obtaining Packer tickets is a true gift. All Packer tickets are held by season ticket holders. To own season tickets, you must have inherited them. Or killed someone. Or both. Seriously, the waiting list to become a season ticket holder is 70 years long. No joke!

 

Witness the Packer Pope. Note the Super Bowl ring.

Now, I am sure one can purchase them over the interweb. But that's no fun. And so, if you do not own season tickets you must know someone. Someone nice enough, who likes you enough, to give you tickets.

The Family Hall is now one of the few and proud who know someone. It was an awesome and sudden gift. When we asked for the day off of work for the game, it was immediately granted without discussion. It is known what a rare and awesome gift this is. To be on the receiving end of Packer tickets.

We decided, against our better judgement, to bring the Pancake. This was an opportunity after all. She fared as well as can be expected. There were threats and tears. I was chomping at the bit during the first quarter as she whined about how loud it was. There was little to threaten her with. Leaving and going home to GrandmaGrandpa's was not an option. She wanted to leave. Threatening to take away toys was useless. In order for a threat to be viable to a five year old, it must be immediately implemented. But, she was driving me nuts. NUTZZZ I SAY!!

An so, I decided the only thing I could do was seek libation intervention.

I can truly say I did not enjoy this beverage. This stuff is two steps above rubbing alcohol. It was like drinking one of those solid gel soaps, with artificial menthol permeating the core. I could only stomach the one. It got the job done though. WOO-HOO! As I forced it down I became much, much calmer. And Pancake got much much happier. And the whining stopped. And she started to chant and clap with the rest of us.

GO PACK GO!

They say that the children inherit the earth. Well, that might be true. But they definitely inherit their parents' personalities. Thus, it was a wise move to relax. Game got more fun too!

The stadium was smaller than I thought. I grew up a half an hour away from Green Bay. I even went to college in Green Bay for a year. But this was the first time I had been. This is as it should be. I am a fan now. And as a fan, I understood more of the game than I ever had. Cheering was awesome. Yelling was awesome. Doing the butt wiggle dance with Pancake and Mr. Hall after each touchdown was awesome.

And they played polka music! There is no better common denominator than polka. It celebrates dance and beer and women.The dance is soo easy, so fun! I was in my own patch of Heaven. The only thing missing was Mac. But, we know people now, he'll get his chance.

One thing that was not awesome was watching the other team score. I found myself getting all pissy.

An so, when Pancake said, "The guys in blue, they're ugly right?"

I answered, "Yes, sweet cheeks, very very ugly." We booed together.

One of the best parts about it, was being with other Packer Fans. We are all from this cheese state. We all look Midwestern. We all are, in part, white trash. Even the lesbians are white trash. Mullets, people! Mullet lesbians. In flannel! No chic short hair cuts, no lipstick. Just mullets and marlboros. OH! The Midwestern love of baggy t-shirts, tube socks, flannel and uggs. The local accent, the YAH DER HEYS! an so!

an so indeed.

In the end, it felt awesome to be part of the culture from which I sprang. Growing up I was so serious, so rage against the machine. My freak flag flew proudly and I shunned the cheeseheads. But, it turns out there was no need for such foolishness.

My freak flag still flies, right next to the big G.