A Classy Affair

It is no secret that NFL fans are drawn from a diverse crowd. It is also no secret that said diverse crowd has many, many members who crawl out of the seediest underbellies of their respective cities to finally see the light of day each Sunday. Raiders fans strap on some gear from the S&M party they attended the night before and head out to cheer a dying franchise. Falcons fans go to dog fights, I mean games against medical advice, still hooked up to their dialysis machines. Eagles fans wake up on Sundays from a cold swamp, sporting hangovers from Friday and ready to show everyone why an overweight, slovenly hole digger knows more about football than "those classless bums". And Cowboys fans...what can I say. They simply represent the worst of our country. The largest group of bandwagon phonies since Italy jumped on the Nazi train. Sorry to all you Boys fans, but I have seen enough blue-starred jerseys sported by the unlikeliest of "fans", like north philly youth, that the team just sickens me. But I digress. So, it is safe to say that football sunday is often filled with a lot of crazy. And if this is the case, then what, may I ask, is the Pro Bowl like? Having just embarked on this adventure, I can say that it is an All Star spectacle at the pinnacle of tasteless society. The best of the worst from across the globe unite to celebrate depravity and moral ineptitude. It is a Pageant of Oddities, a dream team of nightmares, a convention for the creme-de-la-crud.

So Elizabeth and I attended this wondrous event on Sunday with our friends Charlie and Roisin. We got a package deal from a local mexican restaurant (go figure) that included tickets, brunch, and a school bus ride to and from the game. The day began with a passable brunch and quickly turned with my first Cowboy fan spotting. This dude on our bus had a Tony Romo jersey, a Cowboys hat, Cowboys flip-flops, Cowboys sunglasses, and, most disturbingly, a Cowboys watch. I think I got eye cancer looking at him. The bus ride, however, went without incident. Aside from the obnoxious, wife beater clad, yet semi-funny hombre behind us and the Aunt Edna from National Lampoons Vacation look-a-like giving out terrible door prizes, it was a quiet ride.

The amazement turned full steam as we got off the bus. From the bus to the door we saw the following in no particular order: A semi-toothless man wearing khaki pants, a long-sleeved plaid shirt (it was about 85 degrees), and sporting a cane for color; two dudes in Ohio State Jerseys (almost more sickening than a Cowboys jersey and we are at the PRO bowl); a free Michael Vick home-made T-shirt; Cowboy sneakers; multiple Tank topped and shirtless large, greasy men; a 49er fan singing Joan Jett's I Love Rock-n-Roll. Priceless. Once in the game, Elizabeth and Charlie promptly got 2 beers spilled on them by the toast of high society behind us. Oh, by the way, it was only 11:30AM. Thankfully they had the good taste to then go buy us some for the hassle. They then proceeded to harass any semi-attractive female that came their way, including a surgically endowed bimbo from Pittsburgh (I'll let you figure out the comic genius that illicited wide applause; hint: rhymes with Pittsburgh) who enjoyed every minute of it as she walked up and down the isle, purposelessly, at least 10 times waving the Terrible Towel. This Springer side show took place in front of countless young, impressionable minds, including one of the harrassers' sons. Oh, and that kid spent 30 solid seconds rubbing his sticky rear end all over the back of my head as his drunk father wrestled with him behind me. I didn't get a beer for that.

We then saw Elvis. Yes he's alive, and yes he's a Raiders fan.

As Elvis left to get himself a peanut butter and qualude sandwich, our gaze turned to the most common, and most disturbing, specimens of the day. First, we watched "mature" men, with wedding rings, snap creepy, sneaky pictures of many unsuspecting females (often young enough to be their daughters), one using an extra long lens. Ever present during this sex-predator spygate were the horndogs constantly ogling the NFL cheerleaders as they were shakin' their money-makers. At one point, security had to remove about 20 to 30 of these bozos for both getting too close and for overt harassment. One can only guess the Shakespearean exchanges that took place at that hot spot. Eat your heart out Chris Hanson. And then there was the sea of Cowboys Jerseys. There is no way these people were actually from Dallas because people from Texas don't know that there are actually 50 states in the union, one of which is a beautiful chain of islands. That is why these fans are so grating. They are usually late 20s, early 30s doorknobs who started watching football in the early to mid 90s, at the apex of the Dallas dynasty, and decided "Dallas is my team" thinking they were somehow cool. But what they didn't realize is that their Z Cavaricci pants and turtle necks with gold chains already made that impossible. And they failed to notice that they reside in New York, D.C, and worst of all, Philadelphia.

As if that wasn't enough, I also had a handful sitting directly next to me. Anyone who knows Elizabeth, knows how star-struck crazy she can get. She was "geeked" all weekend and could barely compose herself with such fame and fortune around. She yelled Peyton Manning and/or Adrian Peterson's name nearly every down, spent a large part of the weekend leading up to the game stalking NFL players at their hotels (without luck), and then finally snapped this Pulitzer at the end of the game of the man himself. Too bad he was more interested in his cleets at the time. But the beauty of my wife is that she is never afraid to exhibit her excitement or walk straight up to anyone she wants to; traits many, myself included, envy. And I have a great time watching her do it.

Finally, as the day of freaks was winding down, I found this guy waiting in line for what probably looks strikingly similar to his own bathroom. I like to call this Michelob mullet. As you can see, he almost caught me filming him, but it was well worth the risk.

So it was a solid day. We had a great time sight seeing and feeling better than everyone else. Oh, by the way, the NFC won 42-30. Did I mention that?