flashback: January 20, 1980

You may have noticed more than once that this is not one of those blogs that contains a bunch of personal reflections and anecdotes. But it occurred to me earlier this evening that today was an anniversary of sorts.
Of course, every day is an anniversary of sorts. The great part about getting older is that stuff can have happened 30 years ago that you can both recall AND distance yourself from at the same time.
Thirty years ago. [OMFG... we'll just get THAT part of it out of the way right now.]
I think the statute of limitations is up on anything libelous I might say in this post.
So relax a moment and cue up that whooshy flashback sound effect from LOST...
whoooooooossssshhhhhhhh......
January 20, 1980, was sorta-kinda exactly 30 years ago because that was the evening of the SuperBowl that year. I was a year and a half into graduate school at the time, and we gathered at, um, let's call him Dennis... OK, the 6 boys-in-the-lab gathered at Dennis' house for a chili-based SuperBowl party. It might have been 5 of the 6 boys. I am not too sure if Joe was there.
I don't actually watch professional sports at all, so I stationed myself on a set of pillows on the floor, in front of the TV, a few hours before the start of the game. This might seem incongruous. But no: another one of the boys, Mike, was in charge of the Gin & Tonics. I did not even have to move for refills.
At some point, relatively early in the evening, the tonic water ran out; it did not, however, stop the refills.

I don't actually recall what was on the TV before the game. I almost recall the chili coming before the game began. And I never saw a moment of the game itself. I'm assuming I fell asleep. I could be wrong. I recall that after the game there was a special edition of "60 MInutes."
Will and Paul guided me (one on each side, I think) to Will's car, and they poured me out at my apartment building. Paul called after me "Are you going to be OK?" And somehow I keyed the code to the building and made my way to my 3rd floor efficiency.
This was barely a year after I had ever had anything to drink (late bloomer that I am), and it was the first time I was truly drunk. After that night, I was always convinced that we all get one freebie drunken evening that does not involve getting sick, because I didn't (and any time after that, I certainly did... well, except for that time at the beach, but that was different... it's like an anti-immune response or something: the first one is free).

Sometime after I melted into bed, the phone rang. It was the gf... checking in on how the evening went (the gf who, as it turns out, was the former fiancee of one of the boys I was with earlier in the evening - but, that is another story... I think there is an infinite statute of limitations on that one).
I picked up the phone and went to sit down on the chair-next-to-the-phone... and missed the chair completely. I have no idea what I said on the phone; I am pretty sure the call was short. I did end up with a bruise on my right ass cheek that lasted for a month, though.
And that is my most vivid SuperBowl memory.

The fine print: all of the events depicted in this story are true. Names have actually not been changed, and I am pretty sure that brain cells were actually injured, perhaps fatally, during the course of the evening.









