Football Girly-Girl

(Again, one of my former columns, edited slightly)

It's that time of year again-Nebraska football. What, you might ask, am I talking about? Why, the annual spring football scrimmage played every April in Lincoln, of course. I married a Husker fan, which means he (we) must attend.
I am not a sports fan. I'd rather be shopping. Not because I'm a stereotypical female who can't get enough of the mall. I'd just rather be doing anything else besides watching football. Anyone got a toilet to clean? (I'm feeling kinda gutsy, publicly admitting this with my boss's column, which is often sports-related, which was put right above this column. And that I'm not speaking of MU doesn't help matters either.)
Anyway, here's my attempt to write a sports column based on the events of that day. It was just my way of adding to the proud sports tradition of the newspaper in which it was published. Since I kinda like my husband's company, we woke up early to get ready for the spring game. We stopped and got some breakfast for the road. It was a windy, cold, cloudy Saturday morning we hoped would clear by the time we arrived at NU's stadium.
We arrived in Lincoln, but parking is a luxury for the rich. We chose to park free and walk a half-mile to the stadium. Since the wind was so fierce, I decided a seat under the top tier might shelter us a bit from the sharp wind. I was mistaken. I started wishing I'd worn a winter coat as I wrapped a big black tent, I mean rain poncho, around my legs.
"What do you have to say?" my husband asked as halftime neared. "Brrr," was my reply. "We're at a football game, none of those girly complaints," he zinged back.
"Should I scratch myself, prove I'm a man?" I asked.
"That'd be cool," he smiled as halftime began.
We went to the bathroom, but he wouldn't let me go to the men's room. So much for me trying to be less "girly". At least we were able to warm up a little.
As we turned to go back to our seats, we noticed people walking by with wet jackets on. Lo and behold, it was raining. And, we had lost our seats underneath the upper tier. They always say, "Move your feet, lose your seat." Whoever said that must have been at a football game where they stole some poor, cold, had-to-go-to-the-bathroom people's seats under the upper tier.
My husband asked if I wanted to leave and of course, I did. We swam the half-mile back to the car and found a place to eat. It rained all day and night.
I think we were both a little girly that day.
Oh, and Nebraska won the game.