The Hell of a Thousand Sports

My ex-boyfriend's father used to call my girlfriends and I, "The Hell of a Thousand Mouths" when we got together... but this my friends is something altogether more horrendous and sinister: "The Hell of a Thousand Sports." It's what happens when 2 premiership "football" matches, 1 Six Nations Rugby game, and The Superbowl all happen on the same day. I'm lucky to be here I tell ya.

I managed to avoid active spectatorship of the Manchester United and Celtic games (although I was forced to listen to a bit of Glasgow Celtic on the radio.) I watched the Rugby with Tom and Family in Belfast which was mostly more painful for the players than it was for me since I was comfortably ensconsed on the couch in Tom's parents house and able to periodically doze off when I got bored. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for The Superbowl. My first mistake was going out at all when I already had the beginnings of a cold and two previous nights of partying under my belt. My second mistake was letting Tommy boy talk me into wearing my seriously high-heeled boots out of the house. We started out at a bar on one side of the city centre and after realising that we couldn't reasonably be expected to listen to the faux-American DJ guy marketing various sponsors, we split across town to another bar that we thought *wrongly* would be less crowded and less of a wank-fest.

By the time we arrived at Bar No. 2, my feet were falling off me and the place was absolutely packed. We soon realised that this was because all the Rugby and Soccer fans had been sitting in the place all day long. The first soccer game kicked off at around noon and we arrived at around 11pm so you can imagine the messiness and chaos that ensued. we had to wade into a corner to try and get a square of space near a TV and were surrounded by a charming mix of Extremely Drunk Irish Rugby fans singing and yelling "Chug, Chug, Chug" at the top of their lungs while spilling pints on anyone in the general vicinity and Rowdy Testosterone filled Yanks yelling "U-S-A, U-S-A" and jockeying for any kind of TV Space while messily eating 1 euro Hot Dogs. To add insult to injury, there was a hard-core meat-market vibe to the place and I can't count the number of $hitfaced guys who decided to grace me with their presence by asking inane questions and spilling beer on my shoes. Oh, the joy.

Who would've thought that the Superbowl could actually be worse outside of states. Football + Rugby + Soccer + Drunks + Crowds + Uncomfortable Shoes - Guacamole and comfortable seating arrangements and chicken wings = Hell.

I'm only just recovering now and it's Wednesday. If I see a football I might curl up in the fetal position and start rocking back and forth and drooling.