Plastic Is The New Black

Eddie got tickets to a Jets game from a season ticket holder, which meant a fun night of free for a preseason game.  Are we Jets fans?  No.  Are we fans of free?  Ummm, what kind of question is that?

We got there about fifteen minutes before kickoff.  That was enough time to walk from the car to the stadium through the maze of tailgaters.  When we got to the entrance, I was told I couldn't enter because my bag was too big.  The guy pointed to a small pink square painted on the table the size of a box of playing cards and said, You can't have a bag bigger than that.  He directed me towards a mobile plastic bag trailer to get a plastic bag to transfer all my stuff into.

Eddie and I walked up to the lady with the bags and she gave us two because it looked like I had a lot of stuff.  I didn't have a lot of stuff.  I had my hoodie crammed into the top of my bag.  All of my stuff could have fit into one plastic bag, let alone two, but we walked back to the car so I was guaranteed to not have any issues.  She'd suggested we go back and put my bag in there anyway.   She also told us that if we go to any stadium for any game in any state, they all had the same rules.  It's an NFL thing. 

It's all the rage.

We were getting a workout.  I also wound up using the porter pottie near our parking space because I'd been planning to go once we got into the stadium.  Thankfully, it was the cleanest porter pottie I'd ever seen. 

Once more, back across the parking lot, the team intros had already begun and play was underway.  We would have made exact timing had it not been for the bag incident.  The bag security waved me through with a look of, yes I know you have a plastic bag now.  Then we were wanded, both of us.  Girls never get wanded, but now they do. New NFL rules.  Then after the want, someone else checked my bag again.  Being that it was plastic, she was able to look at everything in it all at once.  To offset the rounds of poking and prodding, everyone, everyone, was really really really nice.  They all said to enjoy the game, have a great time, have a nice night.  Everyone seemed genuinely happy.  Hmm, how bout that?

We found our seats.  They were great seats.

The game was fun.  There were some immediate touchdowns, which were fun to cheer for.  Then right at the end of the first half, I understood why Jets fans get so frustrated, having several scoring opportunities combined with a quarterback who doesn't know how to watch the clock.  Later on, they won the game, but the frustration lingered like a bad aftertaste.

We left before the end of the game because we'd basically experienced everything we'd needed to, including a halftime show of not only the Jets cheer squad but like a hundred little girls cheering with them on the field.  Ah, that brought me back to my own cheering days....wearing a skirt in freezing weather....I don't miss it.  I'll take being in the stands over that any day.

Don't be jealous of my designer plastic purse.