Big Balls in Cowtown

So last weekend we (BF and I) went to the Stamps game (for my out of town friends, that is out CFL football team). We sprung for decent tickets on Kijiji which nearly caused a break up (but that's a whole other story) so for once I wasn't going to sit in those brutal bleachers, or worse yet the family section where it's not only alcohol free it's filled with kids who never shut up because a) they are too young to understand what is going on and b) it's way past their bed time but their parents think it is ok because it is summer time.

Anyway, we started at Tipperary's where we grabbed a bite to eat and BF began getting football drunk. Football drunk is way different than hockey drunk (which I will cover sometime during hockey season) mainly because McMahon Stadium doesn't have draft beer, only cans. Bleh. Because of this it was BF's goal to have 5 draft beers before we got there and then 2 at the stadium. He meets his pregame goal and we walked over to McMahon. For those who don't know me, I don't like walking. Ever. I'm a fat girl, and if I could put a moving sidewalk from my couch to the fridge I would (if anyone can make that happen, please let me know!). It's only about 10-15 mins max to walk from the restaurant to the stadium but I bitched the whole way, naturally. And don't worry about BF having to listen to me complain about exercise, he's used to it and just tunes me out - I was fat when we started dating so he knew what he was getting into. Ok, totally got side tracked there...oops! So I've been to a few Stamps games in the past, but I think this is the first time I've ever been sober and there were some things that really took me by surprise. As we got within a few blocks the sidewalks became more crowded with avid face painted cape/flag wearing fans from both teams (The Blue Bombers being the other) and there was excitement about the night to come. This is WAY different from a Flames game where it's usually  3/4 full of corporate drones all trying to impress each other. Also, everyone seems to know everyone - it kind of felt like a church picnic, but with no bingo or potato salad .

We get to our seats and BF hits the beer stand and returns with 2 beers since he's now upped his quota to 1 per quarter...I'm wondering if the lemonade guy will come by for me. As the game goes on, the crowd stays loud (but not obnoxious) and the players are even encouraging the noise. Would that happen in an NFL game? I don't think so. The cheerleader sluts make their rounds (I know I know, they aren't actually sluts, but they are skinnier and prettier than me, so that automatically makes them whores in my book). It's almost half time and BF if going to get his 3rd beer and to get me a lemonade. He's gone about 2.5 minutes and when he comes back he has 2 beers and no lemonade because he "couldn't find the lemonade guy". Oh really? Well I'll tell you where he isn't - at the beer stand! So I get up and who is standing right at the top of the stairs? Mr. Lemonade! Can't find him my ass....

The game goes on, BF's drunk smile gets bigger and I even start to cheer out loud a little bit. In the end the Stamps won and we decide to take the train back (it's only 1 stop) because it is getting a bit dark and we pretty much always think we are going to get robbed for the $12.00 we have. The train platform is packed, as expected, and when the train pulls up everyone pushes to get on. We make it but immediately this chick starts calling me a bitch and going on about how I stepped on her foot (she was wearing flip flops, so I can imagine it hurt. Well, as it happened I didn't step on her foot, we got shoved and someone cut both of us off and stepped on her in the process. She's s going on and on so I snap, and I mean S-N-A-P. I've got lemonade courage and I am not afraid to use it! I tell her exactly what I think of her, call her every name in the book and offered her a kick in the twat to match her her poor little foot. I'm still furious when we get off the train and she happens to get off at that stop as well and actually admits she was wrong, that it wasn't me (I guess one of her friends told her who it actually was) yet she doesn't apologize, she called me a bitch, again. I let another string of unmentionable words go and she decides to walk in the other direction. Why am I sharing this part of the story that makes me look stupid? For exactly that reason - I made myself look like an idiot by stooping to her level and I never should have done that. There is a time to speak up and time to ignore a fat bitch in flip flops and I made a bad choice (even though BF later admitted that he loved how I called her every name in the book right to her face...twice).

So the lesson I learned this week is this - there are assholes in this city and even though I have balls big enough to stand up to them, sometimes I just need to stfu and let it go.