I’m writing, sitting at my desk at the TV station with Mick Jagger strutting on the monitor just above my head. It is Super Bowl Sunday and I couldn’t care less.
What kind of guy am I? Where is my testosterone on the primo sports night of the year?
Actually, on my way in, I realized I wasn’t the only one who didn’t care. There’s a certain holiday feel I sometimes notice while driving to work – an elegant emptiness that was missing today.
I didn’t see any cars until I got to the first main road, about a mile from my house. From then on in, it was anything but deserted.
There were three people behind the counter at Dunkin’ Donuts as I went in for my medium coffee, cream and one Splenda. That’s normal for an early Sunday evening.
What you miss by not being ‘into’ the Super Bowl is the shared national experience of the commercials! it’s our sales manager’s dream come true.
I’ve caught a glimpse from time-to-time, but nothing has stood out. The “I’m going to DisneyWorld” is cute. So was Kathy Griffin as an airport security guard (I wish I could remember the name of the drink she was confiscating).
Are there no breakout spots this year? Maybe I’ve just been away at all the operative moments.
Maybe I should have DVR’ed the game for the ads. how weird is that wish?