The Suite Life

I’ve been to sporting events with lousy seats, with no seats, with good seats, and with very rich seats. Let me tell you rich is better.

I have a memory of going to a Bills game with my dad to see Joe Namath play on a nice fall day, with the sun shining, only to be retreating by the middle of the second quarter as the temperature dropped 20 degrees and the rain ponchos we were wearing were threatening to turn us into sails.

But over the weekend, we lived the highlife.

I was invited to take up residence in a suite for the Sabres vs. Sharks game on February 13th. It’s a beautiful thing. Not being the tiniest of guys, I can shoehorn myself into the seats in the 100s just fine, but the suites are a whole new world. Space, views, comfy chairs, oh, my. I took my 11 year old son who took to this level of exclusivity without a trouble. We were the first to arrive and the hostess came down to announce herself and there is something in the way my boy said “Dad, we have our own waitress?” that still makes me laugh.

She later offered freshed baked cookies that his young eyes a goggle a la Tex Avery. I carefully made a mental note. We’ve all been at something where a great view is ruined by a beer-swilling popcorn spilling wooly mammoth who sits down right in front of you. That wasn’t an issue on this fine evening.

Can you imagine having tickets for that section and having to wait for the worshippers to dissipate. It was a fine evening, and did wonders for my disposition and my youthful sidekick who had a long week, too. We thought of waving to great unwashed and thought that might be tacky, so we settled for a more refined remembrance of our temporary vantage point.

Yes, sure, part of the fun is that it was on somebody else’s dime. It does remind you of that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is flying first class and the attendent asks if he wants more of anything, and the only true answer is more of everything.

Food prepped with a little more care, hostess who makes a special point to tell me where the Molson Canadian is, unencumbered view, great company, and a win. I parked in the ramp next door like I was meant to be there. We all need and deserve to be whoo-ed and spoiled.

Good times.