Gillian and I went to our first NFL football game - the traditional rivalry between the Dallas Cowboys and Washington Redskins.

It was the Sunday night game, so we decided to catch a bite to eat before the game. We head downtime for a quick meal, passing the Redskins team buses enroute to Texas Stadium with the State Police in tow. We have a nice quiet meal two hours before kickoff. The restaurant was nearly empty. All eyes were settling in at home prepping for the big game. If you weren't at home your were one of 65,000 heading for the game or tailgating at the stadium.

We head to the stadium about an hour before kickoff. We pick out the cash parking lot (most lots are pre-paid - blue or red). We find the cash lot - an outrageous $18 to park about a mile away in a field of mud and water. We trudge through the lot getting our feet soaked along the way.

The fans have been vastly over served with beer. Piles of empties litter the lot. The crowd, a working class group, is marching through the parking lot like a herd of cattle on the way to the slaughter house. Team jerseys abound. $125 shirts everywhere. $250 for the throwbacks. The crowd doesn't look like they can afford these clothes. But it's Texas. Texans wear their money on their sleeves (Dallas has the lowest FICO scores in the U.S.).

We arrive at the gates. I am refused entrance, because I'm in the girls only line. I must go back to the guys line. Why I ask? Homeland Security sir! They frisk each of us as we pass through. Good grief! bin Laden has managed to impact my football! Feeling very secure after my frisking (they forgot to check my bag though), I give my $100 ticket to the gatekeeper. She scans it (more security) and I pass through the gates.

My first NFL football game! The crowd is moving towards their seats. Kick-off is moments away. The piles of empty beer bottles (plastic, more security) is mountainous. The crowd is at a fever pitch. The PA system is amped to the max - it's way too loud.

Most notable during the event is the crowd. I just can't figure out how they can afford such an event. They continue to consume massive quantities of beer. The profanity. The jeering of the visiting crowd. The rudeness. It's insane.

From the endzone, we swelter through the evening. This enormously fat woman sits next to me. I am very cramped, with my neighbor spilling over into my space. It's half time. We are drenched from sweating. We decide to buy a couple of bottles of water. Two 16-ounce bottles - $7 dollars. We quench our thirst and go back to our seats for the second half.

The noise volume from the PA blares on with no sign of relief. The TV timeouts are frequent. The game drags on. My wife is a saint. Football is not her top thing. I don't even care who wins. I'm rooting for Santana Moss, my fantasy football starter.

I'm dreading the end of the game. The mile walk back to the car and the single exit from the parking lot (the sea of mud). It's going to be a long night. With eight minutes to go, I ask Gillian if she wants to leave. In her own way, she says yes. And we do. We make our way back to the car. The lot is littered with trash, mostly beer bottles.

Sacramento citizens, be happy you don't have to pay for a football stadium. Oakland can keep theirs! As we got back to the car, I remarked - well, check that box. We saw an NFL game. NFL from the comfort of my living room is so much better than in person at the game. John Madden and Al Michaels, I missed you. But not again!

Pierre Cutler
The Sacramento Executive