Well, the people have spoken, and I've never been one to disappoint my fans. Honestly, I'm kinda embarrassed I forgot about this. Although, my soccer insanity is not the feature of this particular episode, it's that of someone else. Let me paint the picture.
The backdrop is once again a game against the hated Houston Dynamo, except this time the stakes had been raised. It was the playoffs. So you are aware, in MLS that means that two games are played, one at each team's home field and the the aggregate score is used to determine the winner. This encounter occurred during the first leg which was hosted by F.C. Dallas. Because Houston is so close, they brought their fair share of fans, but luckily for us(I thought) we(Dallas) won, 1-0. Because of various factors, I and my traveling companions (Bryan and Lisa) had decided check out the gift shop before leaving. So keep in mind at the time of this encounter, the game had been over for about 30 minutes and Houston had lost(LOST!). As we exited the shop, both my friends decided they needed to use the facilities. I did not, so Bryan handed me his jacket--quite stylish, I might add-- to hold as I waited. I picked a spot sort of off to the side and stood there just watching the people pass. About 30 seconds after this, I noted that the Hispanic Dynamo supporters group (yes, there are two; one for the gringos and one for the Latinos) would be passing right in front of me. From the amount of noise they were making, I had to remind myself that their team was currently trailing in the series. What was about to happen would haunt me for days.
The first thing that caught my eyes as the orange clad throng approached was a chubby little Hispanic kid of about 10 who was chanting and singing and whipping his jacket in a circular motion at a high rate of speed. Not to be mean, but it was just plain funny looking. I realized someone might catch me laughing at a kid, and there were like 40 of them(Dynamo supporters), so a re-affixed my gaze and it was met by a dude who was probably college age. He saw me, saw my F.C. Dallas jersey, and started his approach. I think I just smiled. The whole time he was yelling stuff in Spanish (I don't speak Spanish), but by the time he was 6 inches from me, I knew enough of the language to get the gist. Essentially, my team sucked and the final outcome would be different(Sadly, this would later turn out to be true). Even so, at this time, I was still able to point at the pitch, hold up one finger on my left hand and say, "Un", and make an "O" with my right and say, "cero", and then point at my antagonist's Dynamo shirt. I then resumed smiling. This is where the altercation took a surreal turn.
With my attention distracted by my Spanish interrogator and the chubby kid who had taken up residence 2 feet in front of me and wore a slightly confused/concerned expression, a fourth party joined the fray. With the kid in front of me and the dude to my right, that meant my left was exposed. That space was filled by a Hispanic woman who I pegged in the 32-38 age range. She was moderately attractive and I can only assume moderately crazy. Her opening line was something to the effect of, "Ooo la la," followed by a lot of Spanish and accompanied by her running her hand through my hair. My personal space had been officially violated, but this chica was just getting started. I continued to smile, sort of. There were more "Ooo la la's" punctuated with kissing sounds. She might have made an attempt in English to tell me I was sexy. Please note though, that every word and sound was delivered in a mocking and taunting tone. My comfort level began to decrease somewhat. She then noticed Bryan's jacket and grabbed it. I informed her that she could not have it and gripped tightly. I think she then tried to barter for the jacket with the promise of beer. I declined. She decided to switch up here strategy by taking her hand and squeezing my left buttock repeatedly. The "Ooo la la's" returned. So I've got a dude yelling at me on one side, a woman groping me from the other with dumbfounded fat kid taking it all in...and all in Spanish. My mind begins to approach the point of total confusion and the only thought I have is, "WHERE THE HELL IS BRYAN!!!!" At this point, the man decided to give my left ear a go, and the woman obliged and moved her attention to my right buttock. I have no idea what to do. Nothing in my 30-plus years of walking this earth as a somewhat easy-going, appeasing human had prepared me to deal with open hostility and overt sexual temerity...simultaneously. I'm pretty sure my smile was gone. I was just trying to manage one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. Luckily, Bryan reappeared. It hadn't been more than 3-4 minutes but I would have sworn it was 20. With his arrival, the spell was broken. They began to move on and so did we. Although, I think the woman did take one more stab it getting the jacket from Bryan.
So, are you more...or less confused by soccer fans now? Yeah, me too.
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