The most memorable Super Bowl in my life was the one my wife, Danny, and I watched 27 years ago. It was Super Bowl Sunday and I was out in the back yard of our Carrollton home, up in north central Mississippi, building a greenhouse, which I thought we desperately needed. Danny hollered out the door that it was time to go and we jumped into the Jeep and headed to the party.
Come kick off time I was sitting in the most uncomfortable, yellow, vinyl easy chair anyone has ever sat in trying to look up at a television mounted on the wall at an awkward angle to my right. The back of the chair sat very erect and the headrest forced my head to tilt down rather than allowing me to comfortably relax and enjoy the game.
Danny had claimed a more comfortable seat that actually reclined directly in front of the television and the waitresses seemed to think she was the only person in the room. They chatted with her and petted on her and kept asking her if there was anything they could get for her. All this time I’m sitting over there looking down, trying to look up, and getting a crick in my neck.
There was no Chex Mix, no wiener wraps, no Ro-tel dip, no chicken wings or ribs or anything like that. There wasn’t even a bowl of honey roasted peanuts, and the drinks were served in styrofoam cups!
Ever so often one of the little waitresses would sashay back over to the wife and comment about the pretty wallpaper border they had just added to the room and ask her did she need anymore ice or something like that.
Several times they even brought around some of the trainees to show ‘em how people were supposed to be treated at this joint and how you measured whether they were having a good time or not. But they only ever asked the women. As for the men, we were just left there sitting in our yellow vinyl chairs trying to look up when we could only look down, having the worst time we could possibly have trying to watch the ballgame.
It was all about the girls. Heck, over in another part of the building I even heard a girl let out a big yell and neither team had even scored. Next thing you know everybody wants to talk to her.
Today I don’t even remember who was playing much less who won the game. I do remember it seemed to go on and on and on before the final whistle blew.
After the game, though, we decided to hang out a while longer so we could get the most out of that cover charge, which was pretty darn high. And, well, it did have that pretty new wallpaper border and everything. But as it turned out, a late night got later and the next thing you know we’d been there all night long, without any sleep, and the sun was coming up again in the east.
Just as there was no party food the night before, there were no sausage and biscuits, no bacon and eggs, not even a hot cup of coffee to sip on. By that time I was pretty much stuck to my yellow, vinyl chair and my neck was stuck in the looking down while trying to look up position, and Danny wasn’t feeling very good at all.
Couldn’t blame her for feeling bad though. After all, it was February 1, 1993 and we’d been held up in the same little room since about five o’clock the day before and she’d been in labor a lot longer than that.
That’s why we didn’t mind that the waitresses were wearing stethoscopes around their necks and taking blood pressure and checking fetal monitors and all the stuff that labor and delivery nurses really do. Didn’t even mind that yellow, vinyl chair all that much...well, maybe I did!
Sure didn’t mind at all when a couple hours later our healthy little baby girl finally decided it was time to join us at the party. So, Happy 27th Birthday Rachel-Johanna. Hope you enjoy your day. It’s hard to believe it has been 27 years since the 27th Super Bowl and I’m still whining about having to look down while trying to look up at that television set. Actually it’s just hard to believe it has been 27 years, period!
