Have you ever had a morning that basically foreshadows how the rest of your day will go? Even if you haven't, you probably knew someone who led with this line and by the time they finished their story, it turned out to be a remarkable one indeed. Well, let's just say that I've had better Super Bowl Sundays.
Super Bowl Sunday.: a behemoth of a sporting event for the entire male population which combines, football, competition, flashy pre-game parties, ridiculously expensive but fairly remarkable commercials, every bet you can imagine, barbecues, confetti, heart-pounding situations, yelling and/or throwing things, plasma screen televisions, HD quality, beer, and "ok" half-time shows booking the "safe" performers because of the duo-genious of MTV's representatives that one fateful half-time that left the majority of us asking "wait, did that just happen?" and a few us saying "whoa, I just saw Janet's boob."
Waking up all energized for the event consisted of rolling out of bed with a wee hangover from the night before and stumbling toward the bathroom to finding myself on the ground with a life-size cardboard cut out of Tom Brady on top of me. If this sounds a bit on the "odd" side, then let me explain. My roommate, Matt, is a huge Patriots fan, and ever since the golden boy, Tom Brady, took the Pats to his first Super Bowl win, that cardboard cut-out has been like a third roommate. And of course, Matt started to wail on me for almost bending back Tom's throwing arm. 'Thanks, buddy, naw, I'm fine. You're such a great roommate for asking about my well-being and all.' This first, little sign should have warned me of the impending doom that today would bring, but it was like the third time this weekend I found myself being molested by Tom, so I just shrugged it off and jumped into the shower.
What made Super Bowl Sunday a pretty important weekend all-together was the Sorority Bowl. Now, granted Matt and I are graduates of the UC system and shouldn't have any ties to Greek life in general since we both did not pursue that path in college. But, thanks to my best friend, Desiree, President of the Alumni association of her sorority, Matt and I got the VIP invite to this year's Sorority Bowl hosted on Fraternity Row.
Course, Matt wanted to bar it up at the local watering hole, but once I mentioned Desiree, that was the end of that. Matt described Desiree as "so hot that the word 'hot' loses it's meaning compared to her" which after a minute, I gave up on trying to understand my roommates' genius logic. As for me, I've known Desiree practically all my life; from getting pencil erasures stuck in my ear in kindergarten to awkward prom dates in high school. She was always there for me, even with my countless escapades of ditching her to chase skirts or get drunk with Matt and the soccer team. But good ole' Miss America was my best friend; and with that came perks, like being invited to the Sorority Bowl.
So after almost an hour of waiting for Matt to get his hair just right, he pulls a white GAP cap and his #12 Tom Brady jersey on and we head off to Fraternity Row, so named because of the concentration of fraternity and sorority chapter houses lining the palm tree landscaped center of Greek life. We pull up to the field next to the metropolis and immediately are bombarded by almost a hundred girls all wearing different football jerseys in their sorority colors and letters. Matt starts to drift towards the Alpha Phi girls stretching, but a simple 'whap' upside the head does the trick. We find Desiree huddled with her sorority sisters on lawn chairs and matching gaudy aviator sunglasses. She immediately jumps up and gives each of us a hug. It's a classic moment to be hugging a drop dead gorgeous girl in front of a gang of tall, blonde, drunk frat heads; but quite legendary to catch their murderous glares behind your Oakleys.
You know in the movies, when the jealous antagonist and his gang walks over (in their cool way, always in slo-mo) with the matrix-like rock beat as their soundtrack to pummel the lowly, nerdy protagonist? Yeah, that doesn't really happen in real life. For starters, it's not in slow-motion or anything; they're on your ass faster than, well, fast. Second, they act like everyone in the world knows their name and what fraternity their affiliated with. And third, they always offer a form of competition that basically leaves the lowly, nerdy protagonist the underdog. And, being Super Bowl Sunday, guess what the Monster-hyped gang wanted to challenge my 6'3" roommate and my 5'9" ass to?
After the agonizing 6 touchdowns to 1 defeat, Matt, myself, and the rest of the "non-Greek" bystanders grabbed a quick Starbucks down the street before the championship game between Alpha Phi and Sigma Kappa. By now, I stunk, had some grass stains on my favorite jeans, and wasn't in a particularly great mood. Matt ran into a friend who worked at Sports Chalet, so I marched on alone into the Starbucks. Now, remember, the foreshadowing I mentioned earlier? Well, that was all forgotten when I got up to the register to order. There behind the counter, smiling back at me, was a pretty brunette. Her tag said Kate; probably short for Katherine or something. But anyways, I ordered my usual green tea latte and threw out a squeaky "how's your day so far?" She responded quite compassionately saying she wished she was on her couch watching the pre-game festivities. Beautiful, which I accidentally said out loud, but suavely covered up with "keep the change."
Matt came back with a surprise: my very own #81 Randy Moss jersey. Before I could protest that I wasn't a huge Patriots fan, he said "Happy belated birthday, bro, because you're my wingman like Moss is to Brady." Course I couldn't be mean so I put it on, which thankfully helped since my t-shirt was pretty funky after the colossus defeat. Feeling a little better, I was looking forward to my GT latte when I heard it,
"Grande Green Tea Latte, no whip for Joni."
Ok, at first, I didn't know what to make of it, but knew this was my order since the lady in front of me in line already had gotten her order. Before Matt could go ape-shit laughing, I gave him a cold stare and grabbed the latte, heading out the door. Now remember boys and girls, foreshadowing often times comes in forms of situations that present themselves as possible signs for future occurrences. When emotions are involved, it clouds the mind preventing it from reasoning which is what happened in this situation.
Moving along, the Sorority Bowl's championship game was pretty intense, but for the majority of the spectators, not enough 'physical contact.' After the game, Matt and I escorted Desiree to her sorority house where the most optimal apparatus used for viewing any sport was mounted on the far wall, along with surround sound speakers and a large black leather couch in the middle of the room. Matt and I stopped dead in our tracks, and with tears in our eyes gave each other a simple high-5.
At kick-off, I found myself sandwiched between Matt and Desiree on the softest leather couch I've ever sat in. With beer in hand, I thought, 'nothing could get better than this.' The first half came and gone. Matt kept leaving sweaty palm prints on the leather which made Desiree laugh uncontrollably. Her sorority sisters were nice enough, though spoke in hushes to each other mostly. At half-time, as is routine, the guys in the room headed to refill their thirst or 'drain the reserves' as the ladies turned up the volume to Tom Petty and the Heart Breakers. Munching on some random lemon cake, I almost wet my pants when I saw the Starbucks cashier walk through the door and give Desiree a hug. She beckons me over and I almost choke on the rest of the lemon cake. Dez introduces her as Kaitlin and when she goes to introduce me, Kaitlin says "Yea, we met earlier this afternoon at Starbucks." Classic, isn't it.
Turns out, Kaitlin's part of Desiree's sorority, too, graduated last December. Wow, imagine that. We spent the rest of the 2nd half talking about the game and the difficulties of adjusting to life after college until Matt stole me away for the 4th quarter. He was sweating like crazy and kept shaking his hands up and down. I feel sorry for him. All the talks about Dynasty and then paired with Spygate kind of stacks up to karma, huh? I assured him there's always next year for the Pats and it's not like Moss is leaving anytime soon. He half-smiled and bolted for the door. I thought I caught some tears in his eyes.
Taking this as my time to exit myself, I hugged Desiree goodbye and told her we'd talk later. I caught Kaitlin before I left and managed to wrangle her phone number. Score, right? Sort of. You see, karma was the theme of Super Bowl Sunday and the Patriots' season, in my opinion. Same goes for yesterday in my life. Remember at Starbuck when the barista called out
"Grande Green Tea Latte, no whip for Joni"? Well, after getting a pretty awesome hug from Kaitlin and gaining confidence with her request to give her a call sometime, the heavens opened up and struck me down with a single thunderbolt as she said "It was nice meeting you, Joni."