Bow down to the Silver and Black! Part 1

I’m not a football fan. I am though, always interested in anything my clients feel passionate about. In this case, the wild and wonderful Oakland Raiders. Last month, a client invited Michael and I to join him for a home game that he assured me would be quite memorable. The client had booked a luxury suite for the event and he is a restaurant owner so I knew the food would be good. How could we say no? Michael was thrilled to be going. Not only does he actually love football, but the game would allow him to avoid another episode of the dreaded Madeleine Inquisition with regards to his Charlotte job interview. Fortunately for our client, the Raiders were not playing the Carolina Panthers, as Michael’s loyalties are currently questionable at best.

My client said attending a Raiders home game is one of those things to do before you die, like climbing Mt. Everest. I had already decided against any bucket list items that might actually bring on death, but a sporting event sounded harmless enough.

Game day was awesome, sun shining in down on the valley – and then we got down to Oakland, where the skies looked more like… primer. We arrived three hours early to take advantage of the pregame festivities and yes, a little business too. I fully expected to be able to introduce the Red House brand to someone in the suite by first down and have their business by the end of the game.

We sure didn’t expect that parking was going to be a challenge this early, but we had arrived at the world’s largest parking lot. Fans had been situated so long it appeared they had set up camp. Turns out they actually had - the tailgate party is an Oakland institution. I saw the most elaborate barbecue set-ups, with tables and chairs sheltered by black and silver striped awnings, and even a smattering of actual recliners. And beer. Lots and lots of beer. The recycle bins were overflowing and it was 10:00 a.m.! There were trailers festooned in silver and black fringe, hawkers with Raider merchandise of all kinds – including shot glasses. Fans wouldn’t want to be short of those! (I bought a small, tasteful pin for my pashmina.) Many fans utilized the stereos in their cars to maximum effect, and he who has the biggest speakers wins! The vibration of the cacophony wars threatened to loosen a few of my fillings.

As we walked the mile or four (!) to the stadium, the volume increased. There was some friendly trash talking between the tailgate crowd and the few who dared file past them wearing the colors of the opposing team. But no one threw a rib or beer can. There were few children around – probably for good reason. A man staggered past me, placed one steadying hand on the side of the Porta-Potty while the other unzipped his fly and he relieved himself against the side of the structure. Oh. My. God. “Michael!” But again, my husband missed seeing what for some reason I always do. He was ten paces ahead admiring a classic Dodge Charger painted half silver and half black with a life-size (real?!) skull mounted on the hood. It too was memorable, but I wished he had seen the guy who couldn’t be bothered to STEP INTO the Porta-Potty!