SuperBowl Sunday is by far one of the biggest sporting events that people look forward as the basis of many rising careers, increased bank accounts, depending on your bets, and extreme weight gain.
I’m not a fan of this sport, but I’ll be a fan of the men who entertain me with their mesmerized looks of defeat or shock if there’s a fumble in a play. Just know though, that when this one Sunday comes around, there will be parties, there will be food and lots and lots of men, and some women, who have probably betted their mortgage or child support on the team that will win.
I received an event through my email stating that there was a Superbowl party being held at Sky Bar Mondrian hotel. At first I was taken aback by the invite because it came from an unknown sender with whom I didn’t recognize; and since there was no description from any individual, I sat on the thought of an RSVP.
Last year, I decided to temporarily end my association with a mutual friend who failed to forget the big difference between being a club promoter and a decent friend. When he hosted a Superbowl mansion party, he used any trifling method to make money including having me hunt down guys that would fork over $100 for my entrance. This being after I supported almost anything and everything he did. So I didn’t want to go through that type of ridiculousness again. So, I went ahead and gathered a group of women and rsvped for all of us. Immediately receiving a response, we were all set. Parking was a cinch and we walked right inside like easy breezy.
It was completely dead.
Couches were set up and aligned to watch the game in front of a big screen television, and upstairs majority of seating was reserved for guest who hadn’t arrived. So our seating options were limited. I didn’t know there was even an option to specifically reserve a spot if our confirmation reserved our attendance. We sat down either way in an area that we were sure we wouldn’t have to play musical seats with and ordered food from their special menu. There were a few people sitting around and a group huddled by wooden pillars in the middle of the floor blocking our view with just one big screen television. I wanted to have the pleasure in throwing a shoe at them, but instead I went downstairs to see if there were other seating options to allow us a decent viewing.
Towards the corner on the upper deck, I saw a group of men sitting on a wide open couch area with enough elbow and leg room where we wouldn’t feel as if we were sitting on top of each other. From the beginning, the young men worked up a conversation with us to break the ice and we immediately found common interest and made many jokes. What seemed a bit stiff upstairs was much more lively on the lower level.
Trying to watch the game was a loss cause. I didn’t have an idea what was going and neither did Lauren and Leigh-Ann. Once in awhile, we’d see where a catch could’ve turned the pace in the game, but we were just enjoying our food and company. Not sure whose bright idea it was to hire the DJ because he found any opportunity to spin during every break for commercials. The only issue we had was that the commercials happen to be the best part of Superbowl. Shortly after a few complaints from our table and other guest, we found the DJ sulking around the pool, but he still got paid. I’m sure of it!
I’ve gotten use to the idea of men buying me drinks and taking me out to eat, but these guys weren’t about that life which is fair to say, so we held off on the cocktails and pigged out on selective items from their Super Bowl Tailgating menu of chicken fingers and fries, two orders of their spicy grilled cheese sandwich and their beef sliders. Once the guys saw how we didn’t stick to an all liquid diet, they cracked jokes as we continued stuffing our faces. But that didn’t stop them from picking off the scraps and left overs of their friends plates. Shade!
Lady Gaga’s performance and version of the National Anthem was a little bit dry from what some or even many would’ve expected from the American Horror Story actress. Lady Gaga was Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta that day.
I failed to see how anyone could assume that her performance was better than the best version we all know to love being that of the late Whitney Houston, but to each is own even though I’m calling it a spade of spade for the truth to be told that we all truly know who owned the Superbowl microphone.
Now Beyonce’s Superbowl half-time performance on the other hand was downright powerful. From the concept of her new music video, Formation, where she hit the mark by using her platform to express no apologies for being a prideful black woman in an unjust American country and racially divided world, which I blogged about in my Dear Anti Black Voices , just showed how much her presence is a huge influence whether you want to accept it or not.
Lauren, Leigh-Ann and I all walked in formation to get a better view in pride of what we were witnessing first hand that would leave an open discussion for the unknowingly.
Once the game ended, which I wasn’t even aware of for awhile until I saw one of the players crying from defeat, we stayed to continue enjoying our day on our Superbowl Sunday. The guys left shortly after and then the day slowly started to dim down. Groups of what appeared to be promoters and their groupie entourages started to trickle in. One group of women who were clearly not from around here sauntered in looking like a bag of bright colored skittles and smelling like a pound of fish showed what happens after dark and when the events come to an end.
After sitting around for awhile and not knowing what our next move was going to be, Leigh-Ann noticed a tall woman walk in with what she described to be Beyonce Hair, and without a flinch, I recognized that it was Cynthia Bailey from House Wives of Atlanta. She was by herself and sat on the edge of the stairs when Leigh decided to talk to her being that they had mutual friends. I felt bad that she was by herself and asked her to join the three of us hoping she wouldn’t think that we were anything like half the crazy people in this city.
Throughout the evening, we socialized as a group until our waiter had explained to us that there was a french gentleman who wanted to buy us a round of drinks. I blurted out Yes! while Leigh asked the questions curious about our secret admirer. Cynthia was amused by our girl bond and we decided to take this unknown guy up on his offer just as long as he came down to introduce himself. Moments after he came down, we were surprised, one by how young he was, and two by his genuine charm unlike the other guys that were present. Lauren and I weren’t use to this treatment, but Cynthia and Leigh knew that this is the type of guy that is a rare breed. After our drinks, he offered to take us out for his last night here in Los Angeles at the W hotel Jazz night where he had a table reserved. At first we were undecided by his friendly gesture, but we were all females being treated to food and drinks by a young man who just wanted to be surrounded by our melanin.
After all four of us decided that we were all on the same page, that became the night we’d always remember. Finding new friends in a hopeless place during a Superbowl Sunday experience.
He treated us like queens and without any obligation or strings attached. I was just happy that we were all able to enjoy each others company genuinely, and just because we all decided to spend our day out on that particular Sunday. The one Superbowl that I didn’t have to work nor did I stay home. What’s the coincidence that we all just so happen to be at the right place at the right time?
Well, if I can have more moments to share like this, then my life will be a day at Disneyland; and we all know that it’s the happiest place on the earth.