Note: It's Super Bowl week. My posts this week will be focused on the Super Bowl and the Colts. If you don't like football, you may want to skip this week.
The Super Bowl is weird. It’s a big day in America. Most people have or attend some sort of party and everyone sits around and watches a game they don’t have a rooting interest in. Typically, everyone pays close attention to the commercials and eats their weight in dip. It doesn’t really make any sense that it has become a de facto American holiday, but it doesn’t make any sense that millions of people have animals living in their homes, either. I guess it’s just a good excuse for people to get together and celebrate something American. The Super Bowl I mean, not pets.
Then, one day, your team makes the Super Bowl and everything you know about Super Bowl Sunday changes.
You can’t just go to the first party you’re invited to. You realize that you can’t be the one guy at the party who actually gives a damn about the game. When you freak out over every little thing your friends will whisper to others, “Oh, he’s a Colts fan” like you have some kind of disease. Because you do. For four hours, you’re clinically insane and like any insane person you have the ability to ruin the party at any second. No one wants to be that guy.
Instead, you need to find an asylum.
You have to find a party with a bunch of other Colts fans. That way, you can all freak out together. You can share your insanity with all the other crazies. In a room full of nuts, the sane guy is the odd man out. In my case, it means that I have to drive to Indianapolis. My brother’s house will be the asylum. Sure, there will be dip and people will still watch the commercials, but we’ll be there for the game. We’ll be dressed in our blue and white asylum uniforms.