I went to the Giants game on Sunday.
I’ve never been to a football game before this one, except the rinky dink ones in college, and I don’t really understand football.
I kind of get what’s going on when they show it on the TV show Friday Night Lights, because the commentary is so explicit. It’s written for dopes. “Matt Saracen has the ball. He’s headed down the field, in the right direction, and outrunning the other team’s defense. And…touchdown! There’s six points for his team. This is what they’ve been waiting for, folks. Good, good news”
The Giants game didn’t have dummy-friendly narration, and there was no dramatic high school subplot, and no hot, wet-haired Tim Riggins, but I wasn’t bored.
I had my own sport: staring at people.
I spent the whole time watching the dude in front of us gorge himself, and wondering if he’d have to loosen his fanny pack.
There was plenty of heavy-duty chowing down in the stands. I did my share. But there was something special about the unrelenting, zombie-like way this guy ate his snacks. (I should have gotten a picture or video, but at least I snapped the fanny pack.)
He started with an economy-sized bag of Smartfood cheddar popcorn, and kept shoveling it in all through the National Anthem. To his credit, he looked straight ahead, and not into the bag, or down at the ground at the shower of kernels that didn’t make it into his mouth.
The way the popcorn bounced off his face and out of his mouth reminded me of cookie monster. Remember his spray of crumbs? It was always so unsatisfying to watch that Muppet eat, because he wasted so much cookie.
After the popcorn, Snackman moved on to Cheetos. Again, a multiple-serving bag. Chomp chomp chomp.
Because he’d brought all his goodies from outside the stadium, he had them in deli plastic bags, which were littered all around his feet. Whenever someone tried to get by him, he’d look down at the bags but not move them, as though he was just mildly curious to see how it was going to go and whether someone would trip on his stuff.
I’m not sure why I was so fascinated by Snackman. Maybe it was that he just didn’t care. I think so much about what other people think, and Snackman didn’t seem to have a flicker of self-consciousness. None of the thoughts I would have had, like:
“I wonder if anyone’s noticing that I’m chowing popcorn during the Star Spangled Banner. Is anybody else eating, or just me?”
“Am I more or less of a pig than the people eating meatball sandwiches?”
“I should throw out all my litter or else people will think I’m gross.”
“Maybe I overdid it with the gold jewelry.”
“My sweatshirt is all lumpy inside my track pants. That doesn’t look good at all. Why wear it tucked in if it looks like a diaper?”
The only thing that seemed to rattle Snackman was the Giants losing. You know he booed with his mouth full.
Football is fun!
Oh: apparently, so is commenting. People got all up in my shit because I disabled the comments last time. Since I am a people pleaser, they’re back on. Don’t yell at me.