Several years back, my best buddy invited me to go to the Super Bowl with him.
He was a nice man for certain, but I wasn’t sure it would be appropriate if I went with him, but when I found out several women were going also, I went too.
I took shorts and a t-shirt with me, but I didn’t take the most suitable clothing. The night before the massive game, while everyone was partying, I was shopping for warmer clothing. It hadn’t become super cold and I was sure it was going to snow instead of rain. The people who were there told me I was nuts for making that suggestion, and it wasn’t going to snow. Honestly, I grew up in the country, and I knew what snow weather felt like, and this was definitely it. In the middle of the night, I turned the temperature control up in my personal room, because it was getting too nippy to sleep. I was glad I bought heavier PJ’s while I was out, or I would have been frozen. They didn’t have heated seats, or enclosed areas for us to rest at the game. When we got up the next day, everyone was staring out the windows. There was approximately a foot of snow blanketing the area. We left quite a few hours early to get to the football game. Instead of taking our tickets, they were handing out snow shovels so you could get to your respective seats. They were selling seat heating systems and personal gas heating equipment to all the people coming in the gate. I thought they should provide us with gas heating equipment for free when I saw how much the tickets cost, and we had to shovel our way to our actual seats.