Attack of the Killer Super Bowl Party

Alas, the Super Bowl has come and gone. Most of the parties have by now come to a halt, except for a few in the Tampa area. The chips are stale, the kegs have floated and we all now have to face the painfully cruel truth -- football season is over.

My Super Bowl party did not run too smoothly this year.

It all started with the food. Of course, I waited until one hour before kickoff to make my grocery store run for food and drinks, but the place was picked over like a toy store on Christmas Eve.

I did find a few bags of chips, past their expiration date, but no one would know the difference. However, I was not as fortunate with the soft drinks. All that was left were the generic brands with the vaguely familiar names, like Dr. Pepper Jack, and Mountain Deuteronomy.

I grabbed a couple of twelve packs and headed towards the cashier, but somewhere on aisle 11, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a glorious ray of Super Bowl party hope. A shrimp cocktail party platter!

I pushed an old woman out of my way, grabbed the over-priced shrimp, and sprinted for the checkout line.

When I got home, I set up the table to make it look like I had really put some effort into the party. I put the chips in a bowl, with smaller bowls of salsa and dip to the side. I put the cleverly named sodas in a cooler full of ice, and for the centerpiece of my party table, I put the shrimp cocktail.

Then, when I knew people were about to arrive, I took the lid off my shrimp platter. This may not make sense to someone who was not there, but I could actually see and hear the smell coming from these shrimp.

Within ten seconds, my entire apartment reeked of the worse smells the sea has to offer. I quickly covered the shrimp, but it was too late.

One by one as peopled entered my house, I saw there smiling faces turn to tears and dry heaving. And this was before they had to watch a Canadian sing "God Bless America."

With every window in the house open, we watched the Oakland Raiders kickoff to begin Super Bowl XXXVII.

The opening series was very surreal. I'm not quite sure why, but I felt that everything was going to be fine, and my party a success. Then came the first commercial break, and I watched my party take a trip in a hand basket.

Mayhem ensued because the wrong people were left in charge of the remote controls.

Natural human instincts caused the first blunder. Someone saw commercials coming on so they began channel surfing, but this is the Super Bowl, and the reason 80 percent of America is watching is to see these million dollar advertisements.

So I screamed, "turn it back, we're missing the best part!"

Like most of you, I have dozens of remote controls. Just about everyone at my party was sitting next to, or holding one of these remotes.

The anger in my voice prompted them all to grab a remote and start clicking, and before I knew it, we were watching Father of the Bride on DVD. Good movie, but there is a time and place.

Being the only person who knows how to work my entertainment system I gathered all of the remotes and went to work. Within five minutes, I was able to get the game back on. The score was now 34-3 Buccaneers.

People began to file out of my apartment. The game was a blowout, and my party a disaster.

I sat with my girlfriend, refusing to stop eating until all the chips were gone and only stopping occasionally to wash them down with an Old Testament inspired cola.

We watched as every player for Tampa Bay intercepted a pass and returned it for a touchdown. They were pulling people out of the stands to play defensive back.

At one point, an elderly man in a wheel chair was playing safety. He did not make an interception, but he tipped a pass away.

During the forth quarter my girlfriend asked, "Why are we still watching this?"

A good question, to which I had no answer, but we kept watching anyway.

With less than ten seconds to play, Tampa Bay's Dwight Smith intercepted Rich Gannon's last pass and return it for six points. I watched as ABC showed six or seven instant replays of Smith's second touchdown. You could actually see him yawning as he ran across the goal line. Yawning!

Mercifully, it was over. The chips, drinks and all of my friends were gone. I walked back to my bedroom and crawled into bed. I turned on the television in my room, and to my bewilderment, I saw Bon Jovi performing to an empty stadium with only Buccaneers' and Raiders' cheerleaders in front of the stage.

I realize now it could only have been a dream. Too bad I can't say the same for the rest of the night.