Monday, September 8, 2014

Football at the Bar

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Let me preface this by saying we are not a football kind of family.   It's never been our family sport of choice.  Chris and I rarely if ever watch a game, unless it's a special type of game like the Super Bowl,  and even then I likely just watch it for the half-time entertainment.    So when we discovered, purely on accident,  about two years ago that football was one of Noah's great loves we were in shock.   And strangely he senses the beginning and end of football season.  There is no discussion in our household whatsoever about football.  We assume Noah judges football season by the change in weather seasons.  We just aren't quite sure of his awareness.  

Noah was having a rather crabby afternoon.  A combination of lack of sleep with a mixture of end of summer boredom.  We were looking for some relief from his sour moment, and knew that there was scheduled to be a local football game on.  Noah loves to go to watch football at restaurants that have crowded bars and loads of big screen televisions lining the walls.   So we chose Old Chicago, for the purposes of it being the closest place to home.  Upon arrival Noah's disposition instantly changed.  As fast as watching a light bulb be turned on and off.

Game Time.

I'm learning to love football but for completely different reasons than loving the game.  I'm always thankful when I stumble upon happy triggers for Noah.  We made sure that Noah was seated perfectly in order to have a good view of two televisions and faced the bar.   He's very much a people watcher - especially when people are drinking.   I've always thought he appreciated that often times the tipsy are slightly more animated than most.

We placed our order with Noah's eyes still glued to the television.  He didn't even as so much as flinch even after hearing we had ordered him cheesecake for dinner.   He was super content and exactly where he wanted to be.  They inadvertently forgot to make the pizza that Chris had ordered.  So they offered him the first pizza they made for someone else - garlic lover's.  And then said they'd remake the one Chris really ordered to go.   Noah smiled, he knew that bought him extra minutes in front of the television.  I'd watch his movements almost certain he was intentionally raising his hands in disagreement with a play.

He didn't protest when it was time to leave, although I detected he would have much rather stayed.  Typically he gets antsy after eating, and is eager to leave upon finishing his meal.  He would have preferred to linger I am sure, but consented to just staring down those at the bar on the way out.  Parts of me wanted to laugh, but no one would have understood where my laughter was coming from. 

Noah waited at the door, so I could re-park our vehicle.  Even in handicapped parking with only two feet of hash lines if someone parks next to you it prohibits the use of a ramp.  Why they don't make these parking spaces more adequately spaced is beyond me.  Noah was patient with the process and we all left happily knowing that we had cured his crabbiness.

Guess I need to scout the local sports bars in our area.  Might be a long winter. 


Noah's Miracle by Stacy Warden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.