Friday, 20 November 2009

• NY Jets Follow Me Everywhere I Go

  Do you love the JETS? How do you feel about Brett Favre?
  
  There was a time when I couldn't relate to any of the answers to either of those questions. I was one of those people that was like OHMYGOD I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT SPORTS-and most people respected that.
  
  

  
  This is what a Brett Favre is. Source.
  

  
  

  I wonder now if I'll ever return to that peaceful state of being after what happened in New Orleans.
  
  I was strutting down St. Charles Ave one weekday afternoon in late December 2008, it was a little chilly (for me) so I threw on a giant sweatshirt a boy had let me "borrow" a very long time ago.
  
  My giant dark green sweatshirt and I were happily walking towards lunch, wherever that may be, when a homeless man a few yards away pinned his gaze on me.
  
  Though typically, I'm easily phased, I tried to ignore him as I approached his spot on the sidewalk-but he did not ignore me.
  
  "WHAT THE #$%@ HAPPENED!?!?!?! WHAT HAPPENED?!?!" he screamed in my face.
  
  OHMYGOD MY WORST NIGHTMARES ARE COMING TRUE A RANDOM MAN IS ACCOSTING ME.
  
  "Uhhhhmmmm...I-I-I don't know w-what you're talking about, sir"
  
  "WITH YOUR PEOPLE WHAT THE #$%@ HAPPENED!??!?!"
  
  My people?
  
  "THE JETS. J-E-T-S WHAT THE #$%@ HAPPENED!?!?!? THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO WIN THEY EVEN HAD FAVRE SO WHAT THE #$%@ HAPPENED!?!?"
  
  Holy hell this man is accosting me about my JETS sweatshirt (and holy hell this is a JETS sweatshirt).
  
  "Uhhmm...I don't know?"
  

  
  

  
  Logo of Team Which Elicits Less Passion in Its Own City's Homeless Than Brett Favre. Source.
  

  
  

  I started to hustle away, at first walking backwards and apologetically smiling (why was I sorry?) when it became clear he had no intention of ending his yelling. Now, he didn't follow me or anything like that, but his screaming was terrifying on the ritzy New Orleans street in the early half of afternoon. I turned around and began to hustle forward, past the KFC, beyond that liquor store, past the Melting Pot, then that pizza place Slice, then Popeye's.
  
  Still he was screaming. I just wanted lunch.
  
  I turned around again almost three blocks away on this flat road, and he saw me turn.
  
  Our eyes seemingly locked from three blocks away.
  
  "FA A A A A A A A A V V V V V V V R R R R E E E E E E E E ! ! ! !" he wailed-shaking his fist menacingly to intensify the impact of his rant's swan song.
  
  There was a time when I didn't know what a Brett Favre was. I will never go back to that time.
  
  Have you ever been judged by the sports teams that represent your state while traveling?
  
  
  
  

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