Madness

So, we find ourselves living in Baltimore, on the eve of the Super Bowl, and the Baltimore Ravens are the underdog in the Super Bowl XLVII.

I had forgotten what it was like being in a Super Bowl team city.

We are at once thrilled for the city and its people, and appalled by the behavior of the great unwashed.

On the good side, people are are wearing their Purple and Gold best.  Men have been wearing suit and tie to work in the downtown offices, over which they wear their jerseys.  Mother on buses and mothers in Lexii are share the same thing in common as all are wearing Raven's jerseys.   The groceries are bulging with purple foods.

Then there are things that appall Cookie and the Husband.

The grocery store lots have become Baltimore's version of dodgem. Men and women are driving like maniacs to get into the grocery stores.  They are fighting over parking spaces.  I had one woman yell at another woman over a bag of Doritos.

Seriously.  Adults yelling over who is going to get the last bag of Doritos while a pudgy Giant Food employee is pulling a pallet full of other Doritos bags to refill the shelves.

This isn't nuclear aftermath and these were not the last bags of powdered nacho cheese goodness that all mankind will ever have.  Its a Football game.

Build a bridge.  Walk over it.  

Last Monday was a Soup Night, monthly event in which one neighbor opens their house to all the other people who live in neighborhood.  The hosts provide two or three hearty soups and baguette.  Guests bring their own beverage (or booze).  Dress is causal, and a good time is had by all.

When Cookie RSVP'd to said event, I checked the box on the e-vite that said "Keep me up to date with who is coming."

Cookie was appalled at some of the neighbors who declined the invitation used the Super Bowl as their excuse, and we're not talking about people who were actually going to the Super Bowl.

No, instead people responded by saying things like:

"We'd love to be there but we are too excited about the Super Bowl to be there!"

"We'll be at our favorite bar celebrating the Ravens!" - and the most appalling reason:

"Can't be there - have to plan my "Souper Bowl" party menu!"

You can share a bowl of soup and a glass of wine with your neighbors because you're throwing a party of your own IN A FREAKING WEEK?  You're too fucking busy planning your own party that you can't come to attend a week before your own?

At the function, a small group of us were discussing the "the reasons" provided for the decline.

"Milo and Mike were going to be here, but then Milo got tickets and they drove down and spending the week with Mike's aunt," said Bubbly Brenda.

"Can't people just say," said Chatty Cathy as we kibitzed about the woman who sent that last reply, "sorry, can't make it, period?  I mean Amy Vanderbilt would tell you to be short and sweet.  Is there any more Merlot?"

"And," said Dutch Colonial Nell, "she's a Quaker!"

Quakers? The hosts were dissed by Quakers.  Keep your mouth shut and you learn things.

Tomorrow night, one of two things will happen:

1) The Ravens win and everyone celebrates.

2) The Ravens lose, and the sun comes up the next day.

We hope they win.  Otherwise there will be no sleep in our house, as we are sure we'll be kept up all night with moans of the faithful jumping out of their basement windows in their grief.

Take heart, as a life long Cleveland Fan, there is always next year.