The Magical Mystery Tour... Brought To You By Arizona

As many of you know, the Superbowl is a magically mysterious place. Where little Asian children are eaten by fat men in passing cars…

Kid before he's eaten

Seriously, Dude? You just ate a small Asian child. I have so many questions. How did you fit him in through the window without his small Asian family stopping you? And how did you digest him so fat... I mean fast?

It is also a place where men with signs fight each other to the death, or until Verizon Wireless buys Quiznos and they make a sandwich that can call other sandwiches in the same network while some jerk cook asks you if you can hear him now.

My gameday experience did have some highs, including my temperature (OH SHNAP that was witty) (… jerk roommate, in reference to the fever)

Went to an amazing party that featured Alicia Keys on the big screen, and yes she was falling in and out of something… like her clothes… (That just wasn't right… I’m gonna jump out a window now.)

I did have a strange moment though, when I realized there were only so many places you can have this exchange with a person:

A Person: You wanna free hot dog?
Me: Really, why?
A Person: Cause it’s free.
Me: Sure, I’ll eat it later (which turned out to be about 1 minute and 20 seconds.)

Where else would you accept that? (Everywhere?) Definitely not Tanzania. (Probably Tanzania.)

That led me thinking to a lot of other things I probably wouldn’t do in Tanzania, but this is neither the time nor the place.

Our seats were upper deck but the stadium had ridiculous sight lines. I could literally see Bill Belichicks ego go from Matthew McConaughey to Matthew Baldwin in one play. (If there’s not a Matthew Baldwin it’s only because the other Baldwins killed him out of shame… look for that in the New York Times… I dare you.)

I also enjoyed how cocky every fan there was. New England fans expected to win, while Giants fans are just cocky a**holes.

That gets to the important point though. When you go to the Superbowl there are seven questions you always get asked:

1. Where you stayin’?
2. How much for your tickets?
3. Aren’t ticket prices insane?
4. Liver for your ticket?
5. Would you do Jessica Simpson if it meant you couldn’t go to the Superbowl?
6. What you looking at?
7. Do you know that you are going to burn in a fiery pit for going to the Superbowl? Cause you are, and I’m here sent by God to tell you this. Because, while God has a very busy agenda on any given day, he thought it was important that I share this information with you right now. You’re going to hell… and I’m not… just letting you know.

There were probably a couple more but I don’t remember all of them. Mostly, people asked “What team you rooting for?”

Apparently no one told these people that you can go and watch a game and decide when you get there, (that’s called courage) which is exactly what I planned to do, so I would answer every person with “The winner.” DONE AND DONE.

So now as Giants fan I thought the game was incredible. While Brandon Jacobs played like… well Brandon Jacobs… the team reached somewhere deep into Eli’s magic jock strap and pulled it out (the real question is what happened to the rabbit he had down there?). Who cares about the game anyways?

On the way out THREE people offered me 20 bucks for my ticket stub. Let’s analyze this for a second. Some people were willing to pay THOUSANDS of dollars to go to this game, but Chubso Marx here thinks they’ll part with the only trinket you get out of the event other than a deflated seat cushion and Tom Petty’s mystical lighty stick, for twenty bucks?

So now that I’m a $20 richer Giants fan I can say that I had a great time in the greater Phoenix/Glendale/Scotsdale/Chipanddale area, and can’t wait to come back in another 10 years when the next game is played there. Or when I have to go looking for my dignity…