The Sunday matinee at the Rep this afternoon was pretty full, albeit full of women and a bunch of cranky-looking husbands. More than once I heard, “Shut up! We’ll be home by halftime.” At intermission, the man behind me turned on a portable radio and stuck a headphone in one ear. He told me that his wife had threatened to kill him if he got excited by the game and shouted during the second half, but I told him there were probably enough sympathetic folks there that he’d be safe.

Larry’s Market was a ghost town, and the only places we passed that were open were bars. Jokes were made about going bike riding on I-5. It took about six minutes to get from Seattle Center to the U-District, and that was only because we caught every red light–we were the only car on the road.

I got to the Valentine making party at halftime, where we took one look at the Stones, said, “Ew, Keith Richards looks like he’s made of beef jerky,” and left the room.

On the way home just a little bit ago, the streets were still pretty barren. I assume that those of you who didn’t drink enough during the game are still drowning your sorrows. Sorry, guys.

Related posts:

1. Outside the Super Bowl: The empty streets
2. Yes, it’s another Super Bowl complaint
3. quaint local customs
4. Grey’s Anatomy Recap: Code Black! Seahawks Lose Super Bowl! (season 2, episode 16)
5. Obligatory Super Bowl Post