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This past Sunday, I was fortunate to take a little trip down to Foxboro, Mass., to witness the New England Patriots romp over the Pittsburg Steelers, running their perfect 12-0 record to a just-as-perfect 13-0.
The odyssey to Gillette Stadium, experiences there and near death experience on the way home were just as memorable as the game itself. Here is our story.
My roommate – a very sad Steelers fan – and I woke up early Sunday morning, pulled directions off MapQuest and bundled ourselves in three or four layers of thermal clothes. I had to break several promises to friends that I would go in blue, red and white body paint – I mean come on, finals are next week; I can’t afford to get hypothermia. Then we hopped in her GMC pickup rather than my 1992 maroon Chevy Lumina – because, well, it’s a 1992 Chevy Lumina that I’m a little afraid to take on a “road trip” to Bangor in its current state – and started our trek to Massachusetts.
The trip down was uneventful until MapQuest turned on us. MapQuest’s directions from Orono to Foxboro read as follows: Take I-95 all the way down to Massachusetts, then “Merge onto US-1 S via Exit 9 toward Foxboro / Wrentham.” It turns out that there is no I-95; it turns randomly into I-93 or I-90-something-or-other around Exit 17. Needless to say, we got horribly lost and ended up in a nice little community by the name of Milton. In order to get found again, we had to dig through the truck for a Massachusetts map, which got us back on track just as quickly as the wondrous online versions messed us up. Screw you, MapQuest.
After getting back on track, we had another 45-minute drive to get to Foxboro in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We had planned on tailgating for an hour or so before the game, but had to rush just to make it to the gates by the 4:15 p.m. game time thanks to the brilliant minds at MapQuest.
As we finally approached the gate, we realized that the men and women had to split up in order to get through – What? If someone can send me an e-mail explaining this I’d appreciate it, because it’s beyond me. After waiting in the men’s line for 15 minutes and a weapons and contraband search administered by some kid who was probably still in high school, I finally got to see the glory that is Gillette Stadium. Vendors everywhere, fireworks going off in all directions, drunken 300-pound men beating the crap out of one another before the game even started – it was wonderful.
I won’t go in to much about the game, because there’s not a lot to tell. The Steelers got their hopes and rookie “guarantees” handed back to them on a silver platter, care of the Tom Brady Gang. I expected Brady to Moss to be a common occurrence all night long. I was surprised when I saw Brady to Moss to Brady to Gaffney – that threw me off a little and threw Gillette into a frenzy.
The game ended in a lopsided 34-13 Patriots victory, and with the chant “Guar-an-tee” reverberating through Gillette Stadium, rubbing the win in the faces of safety Anthony Smith and his Steelers teammates.
As the thousands of jubilant New England fans filtered out of Gillette, they gave every Pittsburg fan they saw a hard time. That included my roommate, who I almost felt sorry for – almost.
The ride home was a quiet one. After watching her favorite team lose badly, two hours of sitting in the parking lot we had paid $40 to use, worrying about the freezing rain and sleet that was falling steadily throughout the Boston area and our 3 a.m. expected arrival time back in Orono, she was in no mood to have the loss rubbed into her already deep wounds.
As we drove along I-95 – we did not rely on MapQuest again – I began to doze off. I was jolted awake a couple of hours later when the truck swerved to one side. I looked out my window and saw the flash of a deer about two feet away. Confused and in a daze, I looked over to my roommate, who seemed expressionless. So I went back to bed. Come to find out, we had almost died. A deer jumped in front of the truck, the roads were thick with ice and we had tractor trailers behind and beside us. Apparently, we’re lucky to be alive. I was just glad to go back to sleep with a well-deserved feeling of confidence and pride in our still-undefeated New England Patriots. Plus, I got to see huge, drunk guys beat the crap out of each other over a game – that’s always cool.
