The first half of the game was amazing, as the Jets took a 17-6 lead late in the second quarter. Sanchez threw a great TD bomb to Braylon Edwards, Brad Smith completed a huge pass to Jerricho out of the Tiger formation, the running game was doing ok, not great, and the defense hit Peyton Manning hard early. There were a lot of audible "De-Fense!" chants coming from the Jets fans throughout the first half. But two missed field goals by Jay Feely had me worried. I knew the Jets would need every possible point. And that second kick allowed Manning to start around his own 40 with 2:30 left in the second quarter. Four plays later, the Colts scored and they Jets took a four-point lead into halftime. Despite that lead, I knew they were in huge trouble.
On the two jumbo HD scoreboards, I hated that they only showed Colts replays. Every Jet penalty was shown again in regular speed and slow motion, not one Colt penalty. At halftime, only Colt scoring plays were shown again, nothing from the Jets. It was pathetic and unprofessional. The only thing worse that the stadium operations was the second half. When Dallas Clark caught a TD pass to extend the Colts lead to 27-17 with five minutes left, I knew it was over. The Jets' powerful defense had been beaten. So I left. As I stormed through the concourse, I cursed out loud. And this fat prick with a long, gray beard in a yellow security jacket (he looked like he'd been fired from the Gorton's Fishing company) stops me. He yelled at me about how there was a no-vulgarity process at LOS and threatened to have the police escort me out. Not that I condone profanity, but I am entitled to free speech. He could just have warned me in a respectful manner, but a threat of police action was totally unnecessary. So after assuring him that I was already leaving, I stormed down the stairs and north towards the Marriott. I stomped through the lobby past a bunch of people watching the end of the nightmare and took the elevator down to the parking garage. As I walked through the glass door that led to the card, I began to feel my jacket pocket. I felt a sick chill run through my body. No keys.
I wound up losing them at the tailgate. In the lobby that night, I recognized a few people from the tailgate. I told them what happened, and they asked if they had a certain keychain and I confirmed that they did. I left my cell number with them and just hoped for the best. Problem is I have no idea who took them when they fell out of my jacket. So I will probably never see them again, barring a miracle.
After suffering through a horrible finish to that game, I had to stay in that dump of a town for four more hours. Thank God for Mom. She drove from Chicago in four hours and gave me my extra set of keys. While I waited, I mostly played my I-Pod and prayed to God those four hours would just fly by. They took so long to pass. Every minute seemd to take an hour. the sight of a blue shirt made me want to sneer. Plus, I was in a lot of pain in my neck and ankles from a lot of running fast and also sitting for so long. On the phone, Mom encouraged me to have dinner at the hotel, but I was so depressed and so aggravated, I could barely force down a sip of water.
After Mom's GPS took her through a cornfield somewhere, she got in around 9:45. We took off and I was not stopping for anything. I probably drove 80 mph all the wayto North Avenue and got in around midnight, CST. So that was an 18-hour run. Nine hours of bliss, nine hours of anguish. Had it in me to wolf down some chicken breast with chips and Frontera salsa.
And the kicker? Fifteen minutes before Mom walked into the hotel lobby, for no particular reason, I opened my wallet. My third car key was right there. I completely forgot about it. I'm never telling her about that...
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