I had a lovely day at the BW3’s near my place. For some inexplicable reason, the NFL decided to schedule the Browns, Bengals, and Steelers at the same time, which covers 89% of Ohio’s football fanbase. Thank God, though, at one, they aired the Miami/New York Giants game, for the hordes of people who needed to see that. So off to the bar…
I went to the bar while I waited for a table to open. The guy at the bar was a Ravens fan. He felt it was necessary to clap after every positive play. After a three yard gain, 12 claps, very loud. This was always followed by a “Let’s Go! Let’s Go Baltimore!” Thoughts of violence went through my brain, not because I hate the Ravens (I do), but because of the loudness. His claps pierced my ears and my blood pressure was up. Finally, as I got to the point of saying something, my buzzer went off. I sat on the other side of the bar, but I could still hear him.
My table was between a guy who looked like Lurch from the Addams Family, an asexual person (my bet? Man, but not with much confidence), and a guy with those lobe stretcher things in his ears. At that moment, I realized my experience would be so much better if no one else was there. I resolved to start working on accelerating the zombie apocalypse, but then surmised sports would be first to go. Damnit, zombie disease. I guess I’m stuck with the clapping guy for at least one more week.