It’s a crazy beautiful time to be a Seattleite. Our team WON THE SUPER BOWL, and our city is bursting with pride. Case in point, the estimated 700k people that swarmed the streets of Seattle for the celebration parade.
But let’s rewind a bit. Five days before the Super Bowl, I got a call. My husband, Adam, had magically got his hands on four tickets to the Big Game and did I want to go with him? Um, YES.
Huge disclaimer: No, I’m not a rabid football fan. But I love my city, and who am I to turn down a trip to NYC/NJ to cheer on the Hawks?
The trip was surreal. It started with a rowdy “party bus” that set a record for in-flight liquor sales and ended with a just-in-time departure from snowy Newark.
Super Bowl Boulevard was … a shit show. The 12th man was loud and proud.
No matter where we went, Hawks fans were out and about.
And then, it was game day. The city was electric with excitement. We kicked things off at one of the many Seahawks bars that had sprung up across the city. Inside, nothing but green and blue from wall to wall.
We followed the masses of green and blue, orange and blue to Penn Station and on to Jersey. And then, we were there.
Sure, I’m a little biased, but Hawks fans were louder and prouder than the Broncos — from the never-ending chants to the elaborate displays of blue and green attire.
Our seats were to die for. From row 23, we had an uninterrupted view of field, fans, and stadium.
The game was ours from start to finish. We cheered our asses off and danced in our seats. The energy was … ridiculously amazing.
And I don’t care what they say on the Twitters, Bruno Mars rocked.
What a game. What a weekend. GO HAWKS!
The morning after: Spotted at 5am, DangeRuss Wilson, kicking it in our hotel lobby.