I don’t really enjoy going to football games.
It took me a while to realize this, decades in fact.
I wasn’t able to piece it together because it’s not as if I have a bad time when I go to a game. In fact, quite the opposite. I usually have an incredible time to start, then it tapers off and I find myself experiencing the remainder of the day either really having to pee or waiting on line to pee.
Sometime a few years ago it dawned on me that the part of the day I like the most is the tailgating. And honestly, it’s not even close.
Unless my team is playing, I have no reason to go to the game. All going into the game signifies to me is more expensive food, more expensive beer, longer lines for the bathroom, more uncomfortable sitting/standing arrangements and less ability to bullshit with my friends.
To be fair, I only really tailgate once or twice a season. When I go, it’s with a fairly large group of people and for them it’s one of their only tailgating opportunities of the year. So, we bring the good food and the beer (notice how I omitted the qualifier “good” before the beer, of course). We get there hours before the game and get the music and games and all that shit going early.
It’s an absolute motherfucking blast and if the weather’s nice there’s few things on this Earth better than a really good tailgate with your best friends. If the event you’re tailgating for is something you’re super-psyched for… all the better.
But that’s what makes the tailgate so amazing. Rare, if ever, is the occasion where the pre-party the clear topper of the party.
This, friends, is that situation.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: That moment when you realize the tailgate is over and you’re inside the walls of the event. Lines longer, beer more expensive. It’s a nightmare, and it’s only just begun.