As I mentioned might be the case, I was booked on a jetblue flight this Sunday at 7:40. My thought was that if the game started at 6:40, I would catch most of it on-board. We’d probably get on the plane around 7:10, so I would miss the first 20 minutes, tops.
But of course, there was rain at JFK, and though I arrived at the gate by 6:30, the plane was delayed. (Side note: I was “randomly chosen” to be X-ray scanned. There were only 2 of us in line–me and an elderly man–so I have to figure that I was the more interesting option of the two, and the most mobile. I tried to avert my eyes when I passed the row of scanner people. Awkward.)
Airport Bar
So instead of watching the first half of the game on the plane, I watched in the bar. I stood next to a pillar with my bags and North Face coat and listened to a New Orleans-based flight attendant chat with a guy who is apparently friends with the Saints’ Charles Grant. Their flight to Atlanta was supposed to have taken off at 3:00. A little more careful eavesdropping, and I realized that the bar was filled with Atlanta passengers, and four hours into their delay they were drunk as skunks. One lady left her husband’s side to drape herself over Charles Grant’s friend. She kept repeating, “We have to work at seven in the morning. Can you believe it?”
A few of the Atlanta flight ladies were fielding attention from the male majority. There was the blond with fancy clip-cloppy boots who didn’t seem particularly interested in any of the guys, but definitely was interested in their interest in her. There were the blond’s friends, who congregated around her to get some of the leftover attention. And then there was the small brunette who seemed to be working her section of the bar really well–there were about 4 guys buying her beer. When one wouldn’t take a shot she said, “You drink like a girl.” He loved it. Fascinating. Point one for small girl.
They called the Atlanta flight to board at around 7:30–The blond was pivotal in corralling everyone. Booming voice, that one–and the place cleared out. There were only 3 or 4 of us left. But then, five minutes later, the small girl came back with a napkin and a pen and walked up to the leftover guy whom she’d been talking to and asked him for his number. Gutsy! Point two for small girl.
(Another side note, this one to self: Best strategy for meeting guys does not include sitting in a corner watching other people interact.)
On the Plane
We finally boarded the plane at 7:45–including the phone number guy–and were told that we would take off at 8:05 if we were all seated by then, but if not, we’d leave at 9:30. Panic ensued, and no one turned on the TV system. Gah!
The pilot very friendly-ly came out to thank us for sitting so quickly and asked if we had any questions or concerns. The phone number guy yelled, “FOOTBALL!” The pilot didn’t hear, and instead he told us that Don Zimmer had been on the previous flight and that he’d had his picture taken with the former baseball manager. Then he asked if we had any more questions, to which phone number guy replied, “FOOTBALL!” But since that was a statement and not a question, the pilot didn’t respond.
Since we were good little plane sitters, we took off before 9, and I got to watch the entire second half of the game. Which was crazy. And though I usually love to watch live events on jetblue because of the communal joy, the lady I was sitting next to was decidedly not watching the game. (Third side note: according to a friend, communal jetblue joy can also be scary if you are, say, not watching the Olympics and don’t understand why everyone is suddenly screaming in unison.)
Because the lady was not football savvy, every time I gasped (fumble!), she looked at me like I had three heads. And when I made the mistake of accidentally clapping (I’m a clapper), she grunted. Which was ridiculous because, a) football is important–duh!, and b) she spent the entire flight watching some old dude playing the piano on The Lame People Channel, or something, and she was conducting the music with her hands the whole time. I MEAN, COME ON. I felt sad when I heard phone number guy cheering several rows in front of me and when the guys three rows behind me discussed the game after we landed. They would have been fun seatmates. Oh well. At least the pilot was gracious enough to allow us to circle the airport for 30 minutes before landing so we could see the presentation of the trophies.
How did everyone else watch the game? Are you happy that the FifG approved Super Bowl is a go?
