For a few years in the bloom of youth a crew of us would periodically attend a local NFL home game. The point of which being much less to exhort the efforts of African mercenaries than to leer at cheerleaders and enjoy the camaraderie of drunken bullshitting. Though there was one game when even those pleasant diversions seemed insufficient, and so we trooped out of the stands looking for misadventure.
One of our party suggested the day would be a complete loss if the second half were to commence without our viewing it from one of the stadium’s lavish luxury boxes. We all agreed that was certainly the case, with the only acknowledged impediment being our lack of box-seat credentials–and that wasn’t impediment enough.
So we slipped past a disinterested guard on the mezzanine and made our way to a stately row of locked doorways. About to either give up…
View original post 764 more words