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“Latins are tenderly enthusiastic. In Brazil, they throw flowers at you. In Argentina, they throw themselves." -- Marlene Dietrich

Mancation, Part I: Dog Orgies and Patriot Losses

Two years after flying to Tempe to watch the Patriots slaughter the Arizona Cardinals, GoPats, Luddite, and I took another mancation this past weekend to watch the Pats take on Manning and the Colts in Foxboro Sunday night.

We probably should have stayed home.

Luddite picked me up Saturday morning and we drove to BWI. He brought along his wife’s lavender bag/purse as a carryon and, while in line at the gate, spotted a man holding the same bag his wife took with her to Richmond.

“I almost brought the same bag,” he said.

“That would have been embarrassing,” I replied.

Not exactly putting the “man” in “mancation”, we settled into our seats where Luddite proceeded to spank me in completing Southwest’s inflight magazine crossword. It was a pretty decent flight, much better than the one two years ago when we were delayed a few hours because there was A TORNADO NEAR THE RUNWAY.

We got to Providence, where Luddite’s parents live and were letting us spend the weekend, and I was immediately arm-raped by their dog Paddy (yes, named after the whiskey). The nymphomaniac canine kept humping my arm until he got tired, after which he sought out his stuffed animals on the ground and started to screw Clifford and Snoopy in some crazy dog orgy to prove he was in charge. Point taken, Paddy.

We took Luddite’s mom out to dinner for her birthday that night, hitting beautiful downtown Providence, which, I was assured, was a city built not on rock and roll but on the efforts of a corrupt mayor with ties to the mafia.

Did anyone ever watch the show “Providence”? Did it do for Providence what “Dallas” did for Dallas?

Anyway, we went to a really great restaurant called Cassarino’s in Federal Hill. Our waitress had the thickest Rhode Island accent and I made Luddite and GoPats – who are vegetarians cry by eating veal. In my defense, it was already dead and, therefore, recommended by the chef.

After dropping Mom off at home, we went to a downtown bar and Luddite insisted on wearing his ascot.

“My greatest shopping moment was when I found this ascot for my sister’s wedding,” he said. “It’s like having a massage around your neck.”

On Sunday, we went to TJ Maxx because my friends, worried about freezing to death at the game, wanted to buy some long underwear. I passed, but found an awesome black blazer for $35 recommended to me by the middle-age gay couple shopping for leather jackets.

On the drive home, Luddite and GoPats argued about whether Arby’s roast beef is reconstituted powder. It was perhaps the funniest, if not most inane, conversation we were to have all weekend. Luddite argued that Arby’s takes roast beef, processes it and pulverizes it into powder, which the restaurants then reconstitute with water, bake it as a loaf, and then slice it to make sandwiches.

“You’re thinking of The Jetsons,” GoPats said.

We watched the Redskins play the most amazing game I’ve ever seen against Dallas, then made our way to Foxboro. On the way, we stopped for some grinders at Tommy’s Pizza, which caused Luddite to sing, seemingly to himself, “Hot lettuce, how come you taste so good?”

When we got to Gillette Stadium, it was a madhouse. We parked on a car-logged patch of grass overcome by burning campfires, rabid, drunk Massholes, and cars parked too close together. Seriously, it looked like some post-apocalyptic zone reminiscent of Mad Max.

We tailgated for a couple of hours, met some cool people who let us watch the end of the Steelers-Broncos game on their TV, then went inside the stadium. We had SRO (standing room only) tickets and spent the whole night freezing and watch Tom Brady break GoPats’ heart and throw away the game to the Colts.

When we got home at 2am, tired and bleary-eyed, we stole some of Luddite’s dad’s best whiskey and walked to this “shmutz” creek near the house and drowned our sorrows. It was like we were teenagers again, whispering and stealing off into the night with some alcoholic contraband.

Luddite’s mom made us breakfast Monday morning and I took off for Phoenix, but not before enduring a THREE HOUR LAYOVER at National Airport…

To be continued: Mancation, Part II: Finding Jesus on Election Day
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