Often after great heights come deep deep lows. Why should this trip be any different?
The main reason that we came to England (other than to celebrate our love….gag) was to see our premiere league teams play. My team is arsenal, the gunners. This season, the come back kids.
Today was the day. I was going to see my boys play…..extremely hungover. Unfortunately, spontaneous wonderful nights have no way of knowing that the next day is your planned wonderful night.
So I strapped on my big girl britches. Skipped the English breakfast. Forced down a cup of coffee and eggs. Pasted on a smile and headed for the tube to emirates stadium in north London. Oh the tube is not our friend after a night of dancing and drinking. Poor me. We leave the station and walk onto a street that could have been created from my memory from every English book I have ever read. Football was started by the working man. This is a working man’s town. Many have created food or merchandise stands on their front garden walls. Imagine, in the cartoons, when a character puts down his suitcase, opens it and a castle opens up wing after wing. That’s sort of what these “shops” look like. I am immediately made to ponder the fact that this could never happen in the states. Somehow the over-reaching government or stadium management would disallow the necessary permits to create such a lovely walk to the gunner’s “house”.
At the mouth of the stadium, I buy a sausage and a can of mirinda, orange. A decision that later proves ill-made. We stand at the bottom of the steps while a scarf said snacks down. Another mistake as it turns out you can take food INTO the stadium. During the game i watched a sweet older man have high tea from his seat. He pulled snack after snack out out of his bag and washed them all down with a thermos of tea. In the states, they won’t even let you take water into the stadium.
We walk into the stadium and it’s HUGE. Bigger than you can imagine from TV. I can’t believe I’m here and I can’t believe I’m hungover. Dumb stupid!
We have gotten to the game plenty early so I grab a cup of tea to help settle my stomach and the throbbing sore throat that I assume is the result of a night spent making a log cabin with the logs I have sawed.
Then fabianski and szczesny come onto the pitch to warm up and all else falls away. Stubby hubs hunk is like a kid. ” ooo there’s joe hart, and is that fabianski?” he is positively giddy and this isn’t even his team.
The game was extraordinary. Arteta’s goal was beautiful. We turn our backs and mock city with their own Poznan move. Nasri couldn’t touch the ball without being booed or called a twat. The man beside me could do that whistle that deafens and I didn’t care. My team had won against city and I was there to see it.
Needless to say we did not go to the monkey puzzle later that night. We got snacks and went back to the hotel for the evening. All in all a wonderful day.