Last night I went to the Dallas Eagle to watch the Super Bowl.
Or so I thought. I figured, hey: Leathermen … Levi’s … there was even a chili cook-off and rugby players there that night. Should be a good place to see the game.
Well, it was also Trash Disco Night. And guess what won out?
During the final minutes of the first half — when Ravens QB Joe Flacco threw to Jacoby Jones for a 56-yard touchdown on 3rd-and-10 (Jones beat Chris Culliver of the 49ers — the asshat who insulted gays in sports last week) — I cheered … and was the only one.
It was OK, I predicted — when halftime starts, the gays will pay attention. And they did. Sort of.
The space in front of the TVs was never more crowded with watchers than during Beyonce’s appearance, and when the rest of Destiny’s Child showed up, there were squeals, even though management kept the sound turned down while “Brick House” played on the dance floor. (At least we had closed captions.) One of the funniest things? The gay guys who sat aghast at Beyonce’s gyrating in a revealing costume. “Don’t kids watch this?” one said to me. “This seems a little risque for them.” “It’s a little risque for me,” I said.
I went home around the time of the blackout and actually flipped between the Super Bowl and Downton Abbey for a while … mostly staying on Downton Abbey. Hey, I love me men in tight pants, but the Dowager Countess calls …
