Having been in the suburbs for a number of years now, I finally have the whole Superbowl party thing down pat. However, it was not always this way. Several years ago when we got our first invitation to the town’s most renowned Superbowl party, I was not quite as savvy.
Flashback 8 years ago:
“Joe invited us to his Superbowl party,” said my husband, reading an invitation that had just come in the mail.
“No way!” I exclaimed, ripping the invitation out of his hands. I cradled the invitation in my hands like it was Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket. Not that we are social pariahs or anything, but this was the first Superbowl party we had been invited to in town since we moved into our house. And this wasn’t just any Superbowl party. This was the Academy Awards of all Superbowl parties. With big screen TVs set up in every room, a cornucopia of Superbowl-themed food, and his own personal halftime show, Joe’s party was the hottest ticket in town. I felt like Superbowl royalty. We were in!
Now I have to admit, I’m not the most savvy sports enthusiast. At my first football game in my first year at college, I was so excited when my team scored, I jumped up and yelled, “Homerun!” Then there was the time we went to a baseball game and I didn’t like the call, so I yelled, “We want a new Ref!” That was about a week after we arrived late to a hockey game and I asked someone in the stands which team had the ball. Is it any wonder my husband stopped taking me to sporting events after that?
Fortunately, what I lack in knowledge, I more than make up for in enthusiasm. I am a loyal fan and I will root fervently for the team with the best uniforms. I’m kidding, of course. I’m not that shallow. I actually root for the team with the cutest players.
Since I knew I was not that sports smart, I thought I would focus on the two things I do know very well: clothes and food. For the food, I wanted something tasteful and yet tantalizing. Then I needed an appropriate Superbowl party outfit… you know, something that said, “I’m a fashionable football fan.” I put a lot of thought into both these things and when the big day arrived, I spun around for my husband and grinned.
“What do you think?” I asked.
He stood and gaped at me.
“What the heck are you wearing?” he asked. I was decked out in my coolest tie-dyed football jersey with black skinny jeans and suede over-the-knee boots.
“I am wearing my coolest tie-dyed football jersey with black skinny jeans and suede over-the-knee boots,” I told him.
He guffawed. He snorted. I scowled.
“What is so funny?” I demanded.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he said snidely. “What’s that?” he asked pointing to the tray of hors d’oeuvres I was carrying.
“This is an elegant fruit, cheese and crudités display,” I explained.
He snorted again. I decided he had no sense of Superbowl party decorum so I ignored him and we left.
When we arrived fashionably late at the party, I made my grand entrance. Nobody noticed. I stepped back and made my grand entrance again. Again, nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy scarfing hamburger sliders, loaded nachos, and greasy chicken wings in their stained t-shirts, shredded jeans and sneakers to notice the idiot in the super fancy outfit carrying a tray of super fancy food.
Realizing I totally missed the boat on the food and clothing call, I decided the only thing to do was fall back on Plan B.
“So,” I asked our host. “How’s the game?
“Great!” he said.
“Cool!” I exclaimed. “What inning are we in?”