Why Alcohol Should Be Banned At Sporting Events
You would think from this title that I’m anti-alcohol. I’m not. I like to drink like the rest of them. Contrary to what this title suggests, I enjoy having a beer at a hockey game or a football game. So why do I really think they should be banned at sporting events? I’ll tell you why, right after I tell you what happened to my daughter and I today:
We took a 4:07 NJ Transit train home from NYC. The Devils lost to the Flyers today, so the train was full of both types of fans. A man and his son sat behind us, his son in a jersey, the man was not. The whole train ride, he was bumping my seat or pulling on the top of it. Now, that was enough to get me a little irked, but I said nothing. I didn’t say anything when he was shouting “Let’s Go Giants” at the top of his lungs the whole trip either, which both myself and my daughter were able to hear THROUGH our headphones. No, when did I say something? When he started cursing out 49ers fans and Flyers fans. That’s when I said something. Sure, I could have asked him nicely to stop the profanity in front of my and his child and the many others on the train, but my sarcasm got the better of me.
I turned in my seat and told him, “Your mother must be so proud of you.” And turned back in my seat. Guess what? He was too drunk or too stupid to realize that it was a dig at him and not his mother. First he said he didn’t even have a mother, that he had two fathers. Then he started asking why I’d say something about his mother. Then he started saying nasty things about my mother, saying she had twelve toes and scraggly nails, etc. and that’s when I stopped listening.
Did it end there? Oh no. Mr. Drunk kept up the Giants shouting, kept up the profanities, and kept saying stuff to me. He said he didn’t say anything to me, and what was my problem. I told him he was not the only person on the train, and that he was incredibly selfish, and used inappropriate language in front of all these children.
Oh, he kept up his attack, got loud and belligerent, said that there was a quiet car on the train. (Really, I don’t care about the quiet but I’m sure I’m not the only one he was bothering.) So when the conductor came around, I told him the man was loud, obnoxious and using inappropriate language in front of all these children and I didn’t appreciate it. He looked at the guy and spread his hands with a “come on” look. The guy got a little quieter.
Well, they announced Woodbridge station and Mr. Drunk thought they said Long Branch and that they’d missed their stop. His son said no, it’s Woodbridge. Mind you, during all of this yelling of his, I’m sure his son was embarrassed because he kept telling him to stop.
So when we got to Matawan station, he told his son, “Okay, next stop.” I told my husband that the guy behind me was being a complete asshat and was getting off at Hazlet too. He told me he’d meet me on the platform. Good thing he did, because here’s what happened next:
He gathered his stuff and his son, and walked off the train, joined by two of his buddies. As soon as he was on the platform he said, and I quote: “I wanna take my junk out to that bitch in front of me’s kid.” I heard it and my husband who was on the other side of him heard it. I turned around and confronted him.
I said, “Excuse me? You want to show your junk to my kid?” And that’s when good ol’ hubby jumped him and started shouting at him (yes, there were profanities involved). He backed up a little and asked him, “Who the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you?”
To which he replied that he was my husband and he needed to leave me alone. His two buddies jump in and he hauls his kid five feet away. His buddies insist he didn’t say anything to me, he does too.
I said, “Excuse me? You didn’t say anything to me? For real?”
So he jumps in and says, “Your wife’s ugly. You’re a loser. Your wife’s a loser.”
I said, “You’re not worth the dirt I walk on,” and started to walk away. Well, his buddies get him off the platform and some guy waiting for the northbound train shouts over to me, “Devils lose?” and I told him he said he wanted to show his junk to my kid.
So we start walking down the platform, and the guy runs back toward us, but down in the parking lot, his kid in tow, and keeps yelling at us. I said to him, “And how much have you had to drink today?”
He shouts, “That doesn’t matter!” and keeps yelling his ridiculous b.s. at us asking what my problem was. I laughed and again reiterated that he was obnoxious, loud, and used inappropriate language in front of all those kids on the train. He wandered away, with his kid and his buddies, walking home (which is within walking distance of the station obviously…I wonder where this guy lives…I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to find out).
Really? I’m ugly and a loser? Is that the best he can do? My daughter was upset about his comments, but I told her not to worry. I have thicker skin than that. That drunk loser couldn’t come up with anything better to insult me with. I pity him. I really do. And I pity his son. I surely wonder what will happen when he heatedly goes home and tells his wife all about it. Will his son tell him he was wrong?
Who knows. All I have to say, Mr. Drunk, is that your mother must surely be proud of the gentleman she raised. And I bet your embarrassed son is just as proud. Good job. Good role model. Congratulations, Mr. Drunk, you’re officially the asshat of the year, and it’s only January.
So that, my dear friends, is why alcohol should be banned at sporting events. Or, at the very least, much more regulated. Alcohol and sporting events don’t mix because it makes an ass out of you and…well, you, Mr. Drunk.