When You're A Jet...

Last weekend I tested the waters and attended my first game as a new Jets football fan. Apparently no one told me I needed Kelvar and an M.D. on standby.

What a weekend! Where to begin....I arrived in Lauderdale-by-Sea to torrential rain and lightening. I was meeting a number of my fellow Jets fans from Tampa and any borough that is not Manhattan. JETS METS! The gang were all huddled underneath our hotel's abandoned pool shelter drinking Bud from a can. They immediately quizzed me on my lineage to size up what ethnic slur to use with me. I was a "Mick with a side of Spick." I wasn't imbibing which was a surprise to everyone and clearly an insult to my Mick ancestry.

To keep track of the main cast of West Side Story characters:

Stephanie - my Alabama sorority sister. Daughter of the FBI agent who arrested "Goodfellas" main character Henry Hill.

Tommy "Queens"- cousin of Stephanie, 6'1 and weighing in at 342 (but going on a diet after Super Bowl). Consumed 35 beers in eight hours.

Tony Macaroni - real last name unknown. Known profession: Chef. Unknown profession: son of a Mafia made guy, Desert Storm vet. Recently pistol whipped, wounds on face and head. Represents rap artist JoJo Pelligrino.

To continue our story, let's return to the pool shelter. I noticed that it had areas for but no TVs. The ceiling fan paddles had been removed. The bar was empty. The pool deck was missing tiles. While the hotel was beach side, signs were posted about no lifeguards and strong undertow. However, Jets fans are real troopers because they sat in the rain in bathing suits trying to get tan.

I decided to drop my stuff in our room. Apparently the name "Smelly Crackhouse with Bad Air Conditioning Hotel" was taken so it was called the Beachfront motel. My third floor hallway smelled like...well let's not go there except to say I think this hotel does some banging hourly business. The door to our room would not open unless Tommy Queen's weight pushed it open. There were no bath towels. Luckily, had I checked Trip Advisor and discovered our hotel had zero stars and did not provide towels so I brought my own. I did forget my black light which was a good thing because there was enough DNA for a full season of CSI:Miami. The one wall hanging was drilled into the wall. There was a floor safe but the white powder at the bottom could have been rat poisoning or coke so I left it alone.

Tony Macaroni, whom I had just met, was kind enough to walk me across the street to Publix to get some snacks. To get you in the correct frame of mind, he has a striking resemblance to the very handsome Uncle Fester from the Addams Family and the personality of Academy Award winner Robert De Niro's character in "Taxi Driver." Tony shared with me on our short walk that he "wanted to take it to the next level" with Stephanie, divorced his wife because she got fat from Dunkin' Donuts while he he had to sew and wash her clothes, and his dad was a made guy from the Lufthansa heist. So much information!

We all decided it was time for nighttime football and "chow." After a 20 minute cab ride to Pompano we settled on Packy's Pub. Tony shaved his head for the occasion, which only left 10-15 cuts. After wings and Tater Tots, we took a hilarious cab ride to downtown Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, which consists of a Packers bar (Brady Sucks!), a snotty bar that serves boxed wine (a-holes!) and the Aruba. Now the Aruba was fancy stuff and Tony saw some lovely ladies who were very interested in his Jacob the Jeweler watch. Tony wandered off to dance to "Come on Ride the Train" by himself.

At 1 a.m. Steph and I decided we had enough and made the guys walk us back to our hotel. It was about a quarter of a mile so Tommy Queens thought it was such as nice night he would walk back without his shirt on. What a tummy! I don't think a Spanx has been made yet for a stomach that big. A quarter mile walk that would I would normally do in a few minutes took us a half-hour. Tony, see ya' after Super Bowl!

After Steph and I went to bed the guys went to a bar next across the street. For $60 they could buy a girl with no teeth a drink and get some action in return. Apparently she had no takers. I told Tony later that was a mistake.

Bright and early the next morning I jumped out of bed because of bugs and it was Jets game day! Stephanie was feeling a bit poorly, all that dancing at Packy's and Gallo jug wine I'm sure. I went over to Dunkin' Donuts for large coffees and tip toed through a parking lot filled with used condoms and empty baggies.

Jets shirts and Alabama hats on we headed to the bus to meet our full group. Wow! So many interesting people. It was mostly single guys from Queens who flew down for the weekend. A retired state trooper who could show me hemorrhoids to prove it. Another guy who survived "the can-sa" and could no longer drink beer so he just drank straight vodka. Ramon, the Dominican who loved the Jets and Mark Sanchez because "he's a spick like me." After drinking a bunch of warm beer and eating mayonnaise foods that had been sitting in the sun, we all made our way to the stadium.

I had no idea Miami had so many Jets fans. Tons of green everywhere. And that was just tattoos! We entered the stadium and looked around for the elevators to the Sky Boxes. But Steph told me weren't sitting there. Must be fifty yard line! But we started walking up. And up. And up! And soon we were ten rows from the top of the stadium. This must be a mistake. I was in the nosebleeds. With the PEOPLE!

To give you a lay of the land, the, ahem, the large woman with tiny clothes behind me had a two year old child in tow and a very skinny friend/daddy who weighed about 120 pounds with long hair and a Dolphins jersey on backwards so TAYLOR was on in front. In front of us was a Cowboys fan who may have been lost. He was with a woman who had Dolphins nail art. Down a few seats was a shirtless man with COUNTRY BOY tattooed on his back in huge letters. That was his only correctly spelled tattoo. COUNTRY BOY had a number of zits in between the letters I offered to pop but he thought they were fine.

Across from us were the Ebony and Ivory couple of the game. Ebony looked like Samuel L. Jackson but unlike his role in "Jungle Fever" this Samuel L. really was coked up. His Ivory partner kept pulling him off Tony Macaroni whenever Tony decided that telling the Dolphins to go f-themselves was too nice and adding in the a-- was better.

The skinny TAYLOR jersey guy kept wandering in and out for more beer. He wandered back in at the fourth quarter and was bleeding over his left eye. And had an ice pack over his right. His baby mama told him to move it to the other side and he thanked by telling her to f-off. She then told him to f-off and get lost. In front of their two year old kid. And he had the car keys to drive them home.

After an exciting game that went into overtime, the Jets finally won. Samuel L's friend escorted him out of the stadium so Tony didn't get his wish to gouge his eyes out. Bummer. As the misplaced Dallas fan and I walked out he told me he had three bullets in his left shoulder and took four Percocet a day. The people you meet at Pro Player!

All in all a GREAT thirty six hours. I learned so much! Barack Obama was elected President by the Chicago mob. Teamsters are registered Republicans but vote Democrat and LOOOOOOVE fully funded pensions. Italian guys are black from the waist down (who knew?) Oceanfront property in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea is available for cheap. Joe Namath is the most beloved Alabama and Jets player.  I have been mispronouncing "mutha," "can-sa," "doo-sh," andeverything you can't really describe is a "sit-you-ay-shun."

Until next time Jets fans, Squish the Fish!

One Day at a Time

How do you react to someone else's bad news?

Someone I know and see very often is pregnant after years of trying. I am so happy for her and have kept up with her progress, baby names, nursery colors and being a mid-30s mom. She has been glowing and excited.

When I saw her today, she obviously had been crying. Her face was drawn and eyes rimmed in black circles. The baby sex had been identified---a girl. And she had a horrible problem. One that only one in 5000 babies have.

I am so sad for her. If she and the baby are able to have in-vitro surgery, her daughter will likely still have life-long infirmities.

My friend, so consumed and overwhelmed with what lies ahead, was worried about the cost of plane fare to the city she and her husband have to travel to for surgery. The thought of all that is ahead of her; the baby's survival, months of bed rest, more surgeries, treatments must be so much to even consider.

For some reason, my mind remembers my mom, Miss Judgemental, and her abilities for phraseology. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she said "Don't get ahead of the Lord's plan." I don't think I know today what that means. However, I can relate to "One day at a time."

One day at a time. Part of the lyrics of an old hymnal.

"One day at a time sweet Jesus
That's all I'm asking from you
Give me the strength to do every day
What I have to do
Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus
And tomorrow may never be mine
Help me today, show me the way one day at a time"

I am not a particularly religious person but one day at a time was the best I could offer.

How would you react to someone else's bad news?

Second Time Around

I want to get married again.

My dress will be completely ivory lace and will have small cap sleeved shoulders and will be fit and flare. I have watched hours of "Say Yes to the Dress" so I know this is the perfect style for my second ceremony.

My ceremony will be intimate, just 700 or so of my closest friends. It will not take place on a fall football weekend. My colors will be crimson and cream, naturally. I will walk down the arm of my dear friend King Henry the 8th Part Deux. Once we reach the altar, he will serenade my groom and me with "Muskrat Love." The ceremony will be conducted by two officiants named Al. Big Al and Al Sharpton.

My vows will be a mix of Old English and Modern English. "I stoppeth the world and melteth with you." The Als will pronounce us wife and husband. We will walk back up the aisle to flashbulbs from People and Hola Magazine, as well as Garden and Gun.

Our reception will be catered by only the best. Dreamland BBQ, caviar, and red velvet cake. Music will be provided by Tony Bennett, The Rolling Stones, and the Alabama Shakes with free style kazoo playing while they are on breaks.

Many, many people will toast the groom and me, starting with drag queens, animal rights activists, moonshiners and the Mayor. The toasts will have a time limit of three minutes each and if the time limit is exceeded, then the floor will drop out from where they are standing and roll them down to the incinerator a la Veruca Salt.

After much toasting, dancing, drumming, slumming and such, the groom and I will depart in our bicycle built for two.

There is just one small problem. No groom.

I had a great idea for a groom and asked my Confused Cuban/Puerto Rican husband if he would marry me again and he said no. The first, second, third and fourth time I asked.

Oh don't worry I will get my second ceremony. Unofficial of course. After I start my website "lookingforjustaceremony.com." That way I can stay married to my husband but have the ceremony, too.

Wanted: Twenty something cutie for a free night of fun, merriment, and devotion. Must speak Alabama  and be proficient in Broadway show tunes. Tuxedo and ring props provided. Resemblance to Matthew McConaughey preferred.