I try to stay away from writing about sports for my Back Page stuff.
I understand the majority of my readers are girls with posters of Tucker Max in their rooms who don’t want to read about why Derek Fisher should be the governor of California, but today, I’m making an exception.
I’ve been a Packers fan since I was 8 years old, and this weekend I finally made the trip to TitleTown, USA, also known as Green Bay, Wis., for my first-ever game at Lambeau Field.
I’ve already publicly apologized to my future wife, because I will never love her as much as I love Charles Barkley. Now I need to apologize to my future kids. I’m sure the day my first child is born will be all well and good, but nothing will top my first trip to the Frozen Tundra.
I left Saturday morning with my friend from high school, Ryan Hurley. Hurley has family there, whom he’d never met, but we were set for a weekend of cheese-fueled shenanigans.
Before I got to Green Bay, I ignorantly assumed there would be a large amount of fat guys, a low amount of attractive women, lots of cheese, a Packers flag on every building and people constantly commenting on Hurley and I being the token Californians.
Well, as it turns out, I was right — about everything.
After a layover in Chicago, we landed in Green Bay and took a shuttle to the hotel. Just as we got in our rooms, we received a call from Hurley’s cousin, Pete, who said, “I’m already here, down at the bar. I’m the guy with a handlebar moustache and a red Budweiser hat.”
After high-fiving at the sheer awesomeness of that statement, Hurley remarked that there were probably eight other guys in that same bar matching that exact description. I concurred.
Pete took us out for a night on the town in the greater Green Bay area. That included a stop at a true dive bar in which I was convinced we would get into some sort of epic brawl with some locals who “don’t take kindly to foreigners.”
We also went to a comedy club featuring a bartender who had to be the hottest girl we saw all weekend. Here’s the conclusion I came to: A “five” in California is an “eight” in Wisconsin, while an “eight” in California is a goddess in Wisconsin. I presume she is dating Aaron Rodgers.
After three bars and seemingly endless Miller Lites, we made it back to our room and went to bed, but not before I drunkenly mass texted: “Wisconsin drunk > California drunk.”
I had quite possibly the worst hangover of my life the next morning, but I didn’t care. We were going to a Packers game.
Seeing Lambeau Field for the first time was like the first time you see real boobs on a girl. You don’t exactly know what to do. Should you stare silently? High-five someone? Play it cool? Call your friends? Take as many pictures as possible? It’s kind of overwhelming.
Our seats were right by the Packers’ tunnel so we were able to see all the players enter the field. When Jordy Nelson came out, I offered up my 16-year-old sister’s hand in marriage as a gift. I still believe he looked up when I said that. The offer still stands, Jordy.
The game was phenomenal, especially because the Packers beat the Cowboys and I saw Roy Williams fumble. It was outstanding.
After the game, we stocked up on foam cheese products and called it a trip, as we had an early flight and had to get up at 4:30 a.m.
So, I’ll leave you with this: If you are ever in Green Bay, remember that girls love guys from California; if you are not obese, you’re considered too skinny and unhealthy and most of all, cheese curds, while delicious when fried, taste like a mix of string cheese and a rubber eraser when raw. Go Packers.
—David Pope is an English senior.
—This column does not necessarily reflect the opinion of The Daily Aztec.
—Did you love this column? Did you hate it? E-mail Pope at dpope@rohan.sdsu.edu with any questions, comments or suggestions.
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