The Purple People Eaters

I went to my first Minnesota Vikings football game today.  They were playing the Arizona Cardinals, and it was only 25 dollars to go through UMM Intramurals, and, let’s face it, there’s not much I like more than screaming at men while they tackle each other in pursuit of an oblong leather ball.

I woke up at 6:40, tugged on my dad’s Brett Favre Vikings jersey (aware that I would likely be publicly mocked for wearing it), skipped the oatmeal because I was just too sleepy for that kind of thing, and walked to campus.

The sunrise was lovely.

As was our entry into the Twin Cities

My future workplace?  It’s possible.

We passed a huge tailgating party.

The billowing white Metrodome roof.

And inside. If you can’t tell from the angle, we were in the nosebleeds. So far in, as a matter of fact, that our row was the second highest in the whole place. As in, Edmund Hilary was sitting next to me.

The Vikes won, if you’ll allow me a gloat, and Adrian Peterson had several glamour runs to keep the crowd roaring.

We piled back onto the bus after it was over.  Promptly, everyone’s heads were tipped sideways against windows and neighbors’ shoulders.  I only woke to catch the sunset over Lake Minnewaska.

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