New Meadowlands Stadium Part 2


Approaching the turnstiles everyone in my group of friends did what always happen: We all awkwardly looked at one another silently deciding which gate to go through “where is the shortest?  which one has a hot lady?”  And then, like always, we all thought “fuck it” and went our own ways.

And after receiving our stylish glowing wristbands from the scruffy hobbledehoy (you can think of him as nerfherder) that were way too hard to put on (first the tent and now a free bracelet?) we all met up and had the obligatory, this time not silent, argument:

Person A: “What do you want to do?”

Person B: “Let’s just go find our seats.”

Person C: “Let’s get a drink.”

Person D: “I’m hungry though.”

Person C: “Okay…so you get food and I’ll get a drink…”

Person D: “K LOL!”

Person C: “We’re going to get food and shit.”

Person A: “Fuck it, we’ll meet you at the seats.”

Person B: “Actually I’m gonna get some food too…”

Person A: “I need a beer.”

Nothing says "I Love the Jets!" like a blinky-band

The stadium is simply beautiful.  The corridors were wide and stocked with food and drink stands that anyone from anywhere could find something they’d enjoy.  Unlike at halftime I didn’t have to wait on a labyrinthine queue line to buy a beer, and my buddy got his food in the same manner.  And during our pit-stop –an improvident one, we should have gone before handling our food– the bathrooms were clean, spacious, and without dividers between the urinals.

side-note: Now, I’m not overly sensitive about public bathroom privacy (see, oxymoron), and don’t get uncomfortable, but I do think there should be urinal dividers in any new bathrooms that can afford thin pieces of plastic.  If I were a creep that was gay –not that there’s anything wrong with that.   Seinfeld, anyone?– and wasn’t able to make it to a Grand Central Station bathroom that day, New Meadowlands Stadium will surely have a lot of “peeking traffic.”

–In Jim Carroll’s “A Basketball Diaries,” he frequently talks about using the bathrooms in Grand Central Station and how he was always being “peeked” upon by horny men

A view from season ticket seats at New Meadowlands Stadium

Dammit, NFL, why do you have to put up nets behind the field goals?

Navigating the many escalators and fans, which, in this stadium, is much easier than expected, we finally came to our seats.  Hungry, thirsty, and with beer-trodden shoes and jean bottoms, we arrived at our seats which, thanks to Nick Capoccia fervent fandom, were awesome.

As we sat down we received all the looks you normally get:  30-50 year old Jets fans happy to see fellow diehards, aged couples giving contemptuous glares and envisaging imminent beer spills and obnoxious language, and a few looks from Ravens fans that don’t realize all the drunken, violent language about to be flung their way….

Then the game started, and all that language flinging was withheld and eaten by us and the rest of the stadium.
It went as usual, the huge diamond vision screens at each corner of the stadium, which were promising at the beginning, still refused to play replays of any questionable calls, Shonn Greene played hot potato, Mark Sanchez played like …dammit, I don’t want to talk about it. You know what happened in week 1.

So when halftime came, we weren’t a happy bunch, but more like The Wild Bunch.

And this is where things went south.

As everyone in the stadium lost everyone they came with, as always happens after hours of tailgating and succumbing to the vast variety of beer available, the same happened to us.  Our group split up and it ended up just being me and my fellow Nick Capoccia heading our way to the bar.

Upon arrival to the bar which was somewhat and eerily like a club moreso than a bar we should have realized this inauspicious omen.

We waited there, conspicuously out-of-place, as everyone there was dressed as though they were actually at a night club (am I missing something here?) and us in sweatshirts, jeans, and “where’s my jack & coke?” countenance.  After about ten minutes of waiting, we were, along with many others, notified by the bar manager that halftime had ended and they were no longer serving drinks.

It was almost instant.  All those people who were night-clubbing, dancing, and buying newly-met girls drinks (sorry, dude, but in about five minutes you’ll both go back to your seats and that will be that) quickly turned into the common drunken football fan.

Some of that language flinging that was withheld during the first half trickled out in the direction of the bar.  Bartenders were being cursed at while Capoccia and I were telling the bartender “You don’t know how to run a bar!” as though we knew ourselves.

As we left the club and re-entered New Meadowlands Stadium, almost as if it were a Twilight Zone of sorts, we spotted a beer stand that seemed to still be serving and quickly, almost jogging, made our way to the line.

side-note: Yeah, this is all for a beer.

About 10 seconds after we attached ourselves to the end of the line(Nobody is cutting us! I swear!  If you try it you’re dead I tell you!) there were another twenty people behind us who had done the same.  Unfortunately for them, though, a woman who worked for the stadium notified them all that the man behind me was the last one to be served by the vender, who was already looking like he felt he was doing something wrong by still selling.

Some of the people were fellow night-club rejects, and the rest of the vitriol they had after releasing it 2 minutes before, was aimed at the notifying woman and any stadium employee passing by.  Soon people were offering us money if we ordered a beer for them, and being respectful, caring, wonderful people, we obliged.  A Ravens fan did ask, though, and we denied him in favor of a Jets fan (although looking back, the beers were 10 dollars each, so I’m not really sure who ended up better off).

As we walked back to our seats, enjoying a beer as though it wasn’t 10 dollars, we had a more hopeful outlook on the ensuing half.  It’s kind of weird what the smallest of petty victories can do for someone’s mood.

Then the second half began…


… and our slight victory turned into a large defeat.

good thing that was two weeks ago,



Tags: , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: