The Mr and the dogs went to the mountains today. My neighbor and his girlfriend went to a party tonight. So There I Was.... all by myself, with no PAC 12 Network on DirecTV (even after, what, six years of negotiations?), and although I had permission to go next door and hang out with Barley the Dog to watch the Rocky Mountain Showdown, I decided it would be a whole lot more fun to watch it with fellow humans instead.
I knew that the mayor's bar has a free-for-all sports bar side, where I didn't need reservations or even enough people with me to fill out a table. I put on one of my oldest CU t-shirts, lint-rollered the bulk of the white cat hair off of my leggings, and put on my lucky citrine earrings (that I bought last year, right when the team suddenly started playing well). It took me a while to find a parking place, on the street, three blocks and then some away. If I had gone sooner, I probably could have made it closer to one of the bars on that side, but as it was, when I saw 4 empty barstools right near the door, I plopped myself down on one, right next to an older gentleman who was deep in conversation with a contemporary of his. I left three seats open for the next set of stragglers to come in.
The bar was noisy and warm, and I think black and gold shirts slightly outnumbered the green and gold ones. It took a long time to get noticed by a waitress, but once I did, she was attentive and good to me. I got the same thing I always get when I go there, to make it easy on all of us, and so my chicken salad arrived right as Ralphie was being led around Mile High stadium. (Side note-- I have no idea whose corporate sponsorship controls the name of the stadium now that Sports Authority has gone bankrupt, nor do I care. It's Mile High, and it will always be Mile High, and the highest bidder can bite me.)
By the second quarter, I had turned my barstool around to get the best view I could, not through the glass separating me and the nearest table. I had felt weird eating salad and staring just over the heads of the couple who was there anyway, and was happy to switch my gaze to a different TV set. That's when I got included in the conversation with the men to my side, and I was welcomed into the fold once they checked the logo on my clothes. The man closest to me had been a CU fan since the 1950s, and I think I impressed him with the extent of my knowledge of coaches, players, and records since the 1980s. We bonded throughout the game, and I bet if I go back later in the season, he'll invite me to sit near him again.
As games went, it was okay. At first, every good play got loud cheers, from one half of the bar or the other. As the penalty yards racked up (on both sides, but holy cow, CSU... or holy ram or whatever... y'all need to drill fundamentals next week) the cheering got quieter and more one-sided. The second half was rough on both sides, and I doubt either coach is going to be pleasant to be around next week. It was a labor of love to continue sitting in that uncomfortable high chair, squirming and stretching and wishing that I hadn't needed to quit the Jack and Cokes after the first half so that I'd be safe to drive home.
I don't usually like to go out by myself. It's something I've struggled with my whole life. I felt particularly brave doing it tonight, but I quickly realized that it was alright. I did the correct thing, and I felt rewarded for it. That was a great crowd, and I plan on putting myself in the middle of them again soon.
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