I was going to the Super Bowl, and it was at the Link. I was late but someone held up three fingers to the crowd coming in. I understood that to mean the Eagles were up by a field goal. When I got to my seat I saw that the score was actually 4-2. I went to get a beer. The vendor was way high up in the stands. A woman was serving and a few fans milled around. I was wearing my Harold Carmichael jersey and a jacket. The jacket was kind of falling off my shoulders. The woman looked at me and said I should put my jacket more on. “Did she just call me a moron?” I asked the people around me. They sort of laughed. When I returned to my seat we were losing 12-4. We had the ball near the goal line but we fumbled. We kept trying to pick it up but player after player let it slip through his hands or out from under his body. M. R. and C. W. were at the game. I saw them in a section below me. I could hear them talking about how they needed to place a bet for their rich friend. I tried to text M. I kept trying to press the correct keys on my phone but it was impossible.