Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Saturday morning we had a late breakfast in the room. I got my usual two eggs sunny-side-up with toast and bacon, etc. He got scrambled eggs, and, this I don't understand, cereal. Two or three boxes of cereal arrived, with three pints of milk. He's lactose intolerant. He didn't eat the cereal. When we left on Sunday, there were six pints of milk left in the refrigerator. Duh? I didn't ask.
Then we went to Mall of America!
I had been hearing about this place for literally years, about how big it is, and how it has water slides and a roller coaster and all kinds of amusement park rides right inside! I was excited to actually be going there.
Well, yeah, it's big. But somehow, when you've built up something in your head for so long, the reality never meets expectations.
Take a big mall near you, a two-story one. Now make it four or five stories. That's one piece. Now copy it three more times, and place them around an open square in the middle, like a fat "+" sign, or a donut made out of rectangles. In that open center, pack an amusement park and throw a roof over it. And that's pretty much it.
What impressed me most was that there were gazillions of stores, and they were all open. No empty slots. The rent there must be astronomical, and most of the people seemed to be just walking around, the stores weren't really all that busy, so I don't know how they manage to survive.
The other thing that impressed me was The Man. There were only two stores he was interested in, one that sold PBS Lake Wobegon stuff, and the other was the "Vikings Locker Room" (or something like that). And I know he hates walking. "Drive to the deli across the street" kind of hate. And he is quintessential man, he doesn't "shop", he "goes and gets it". But he gave me the full walking tour of the mall. We must have put miles on his shoes, and he never once complained. I love when he does stuff like that for me. I guess that's why I fall in love with him all over again every time I see him.
We bought me a Vikings shirt in the Locker Room. A very nice one. Photo tomorrow, I promise.
An early dinner, a change into fan gear, and then we walked the several blocks to the stadium. It's completely enclosed, domed against the Minnesota winters. The game was at 7 pm I think, but he wanted to get there early. I hadn't asked if we had "good" seats. It didn't matter to me. All I knew was that they were season tickets.
Turns out they were two of "the four best seats in the house". Bottom row, centered on the 50-yard line, behind the Vikings bench.
I know absolutely nothing about football, but I enjoyed it anyway. I enjoyed his reactions. And the seat happened to fit me perfectly.
At the end of the fourth quarter, the score was Steelers 9, Vikings 10. The Steelers were pushing down the field, and there were four seconds left on the clock, when suddenly all the Steelers guys ran off the field and another bunch ran on. They were going to try for a field goal.
And then, and then --- the Vikings called a time out.
The Man freaked. Four seconds? Time out? Hey, why not give them time to get organized and set up, hey?
Well, the Steelers made the field goal, and won, 12 to 10. The Man may never recover. For the next 36 hours, about every 15 minutes, he said "Four seconds, and they call a time out? I don't get it." He kept asking me to explain it, like I might have an answer. It was cute, but one didn't dare laugh. Sympathy definitely required.
That evening in the hotel bar, a scout for some other team, a player who has a superbowl ring from a few years ago, The Man knew who he was, was sitting next to The Man at the bar, and they had an interesting conversation. The other guy couldn't figure it out either, except that it was a pre-season game, so it didn't really matter, and maybe they wanted to try something different. Who knows what.
Then end of day. I had huge blisters on my littlest toes from all the walking in the wrong shoes.
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