Cardinals can’t fly in the snow

Last Sunday Jessie and I ventured down to Foxboro to watch the Pats demolish the Cardinals. It took about 3 hours to get there, usually a 90 minute drive. The snow was insane, driving was frightening, but it was the final home game of the season and the Niff and I bought tickets months ago and I wasn't going to waste them. The Niff was gracious enough to give her ticket to Jessie for Christmas, especially when we heard there would be over a foot of snow, 40 mph winds, and sleet/freezing rain/rain/death mixed in. The wind was probably the worst of it, because we were soaked, and then the wind made you cold. I'm not one to ever get cold and it took a few hours to feel my toes after the game. We were wet and freezing to death. Close to death many times actually. But you can't possibly tell from the look on Jessie's face…

As soon as we parked I texted my buddy Lutzy. He happens to work at the stadium and I texted him our seat location and sure enough halfway through the first quarter lookie who popped in:

He sat with us for almost the entire game and bore witness to 3 fist fights in the stands over snowballs being thrown, me pelting a guy in the balls with an iceball, and himself (as well as Jessie and I) being victims of snowball attempts on our lives. He cut out early to beat the traffic – smart man.

From the time Jessie and I got to the jeep until I got home (after dropping her off) almost 7 hours elapsed. That's what you get when you go 10 miles an hour, almost get hit by half a dozen plowtrucks, almost spin out half a dozen times, and seriously start praying a few times on the way home. I'm not easily rattled because of weather. But holy fucking shit. I really thought we'd be headlines at the end of the night.

We got what we came for – a great game (a 47-7 stomping of the Cardinals), "great" weather/experience, great company, and a few good stories. Can't ask for more than that.