So anyway, I was saying...
Well, I heard about a great ticket promotion and so I drove out to Gwinnett to watch the ECHL Gladiators host the Augusta Lynx along with 5019 other people who had nothing better to do on Thanksgiving night. That was a great game.
I got a spectacular seat for eight bucks, but unfortunately I was one row in front of the most obnoxious family in the world. These included Napoleon Dynamite, aged 15, and his three younger brothers. The older two were a lot like him. The youngest was the whiniest child I have ever seen in my life. The Hipster Son will get a little weepy when it's past his bedtime and he doesn't get his way, but he's never pulled anything like this little shit did for three consecutive hours - a full-on complete "pay attention to me" meltdown. His mother made the mistake of half-recognizing a nearby woman as someone with whom she used to work at a preschool years before, but could not remember her name. The Whinester threw one tantrum because he was not allowed to go say hello to this almost-stranger, followed by a second tantrum when his ma forcefully insisted she did not know what her name was. Apparently that wasn't fair, either. Of course, his obnoxious father didn't help matters. I was afraid that man was going to get arrested.
Speaking of fellows who desperately need anger management counseling, the Gladiators have a fellow on their roster named Adam Smyth, who executed two of the best tackles I've ever seen and spent four raging minutes in the penalty box. I fear the majors won't be calling him up. At another moment, a crucial shove from our Lane Manson resulted in two of the Lynx going down in one tangle of blue-and-black, which was hilarious.
The Lynx, who play in the Richmond County Civic Center about 150 miles east on I-20, won in overtime. This was despite the Gladiators making about 60 shots on their goal. I'd say that goalie was inhuman, making an unbelievable number of saves, but he was all too clearly feeling it as the game wound down. Jeez, the poor man.
Oh, yeah, and this was a WNNX promotion, "hosted" by Crash Clark, the station's traffic-and-sports guy, about whom I've said some unkind things relating to the demon drink. Holy anna, confirm my stereotype, why don't you, dude? 7 pm and he was having trouble on the stairs. I'm said to have some small experience in the ways of alcohol, but I promise you all, I've never seen anybody that pickled before midnight in my life. Wow. His poor liver.
After the requisite litany of really terrible crowd-pleasing music, it was great to get in the car for an unexpected treat from WRAS, who played a beat-up, snapping, crackling and popping copy of Siouxsie & the Banshees' Juju for my drive home. Unfortunately, it reminded me that I'd like that band a lot more if it was just the Banshees and never had Siouxsie and her ill-placed posh pronounciation in it. "We are entronnced, entronnced, entronnced-tronnced-tronnced!!"
Well, I heard about a great ticket promotion and so I drove out to Gwinnett to watch the ECHL Gladiators host the Augusta Lynx along with 5019 other people who had nothing better to do on Thanksgiving night. That was a great game.
I got a spectacular seat for eight bucks, but unfortunately I was one row in front of the most obnoxious family in the world. These included Napoleon Dynamite, aged 15, and his three younger brothers. The older two were a lot like him. The youngest was the whiniest child I have ever seen in my life. The Hipster Son will get a little weepy when it's past his bedtime and he doesn't get his way, but he's never pulled anything like this little shit did for three consecutive hours - a full-on complete "pay attention to me" meltdown. His mother made the mistake of half-recognizing a nearby woman as someone with whom she used to work at a preschool years before, but could not remember her name. The Whinester threw one tantrum because he was not allowed to go say hello to this almost-stranger, followed by a second tantrum when his ma forcefully insisted she did not know what her name was. Apparently that wasn't fair, either. Of course, his obnoxious father didn't help matters. I was afraid that man was going to get arrested.
Speaking of fellows who desperately need anger management counseling, the Gladiators have a fellow on their roster named Adam Smyth, who executed two of the best tackles I've ever seen and spent four raging minutes in the penalty box. I fear the majors won't be calling him up. At another moment, a crucial shove from our Lane Manson resulted in two of the Lynx going down in one tangle of blue-and-black, which was hilarious.
The Lynx, who play in the Richmond County Civic Center about 150 miles east on I-20, won in overtime. This was despite the Gladiators making about 60 shots on their goal. I'd say that goalie was inhuman, making an unbelievable number of saves, but he was all too clearly feeling it as the game wound down. Jeez, the poor man.
Oh, yeah, and this was a WNNX promotion, "hosted" by Crash Clark, the station's traffic-and-sports guy, about whom I've said some unkind things relating to the demon drink. Holy anna, confirm my stereotype, why don't you, dude? 7 pm and he was having trouble on the stairs. I'm said to have some small experience in the ways of alcohol, but I promise you all, I've never seen anybody that pickled before midnight in my life. Wow. His poor liver.
After the requisite litany of really terrible crowd-pleasing music, it was great to get in the car for an unexpected treat from WRAS, who played a beat-up, snapping, crackling and popping copy of Siouxsie & the Banshees' Juju for my drive home. Unfortunately, it reminded me that I'd like that band a lot more if it was just the Banshees and never had Siouxsie and her ill-placed posh pronounciation in it. "We are entronnced, entronnced, entronnced-tronnced-tronnced!!"