Boycotting the Super Bowl

We decided to close the restaurant on Sunday, Feb. 1 because the Seahawks were playing in their second straight Super Bowl. The Legion of Boom had taken over the island, and we embraced the fan dome by taking an extra day off.

Since we actually had a Sunday off, we called up our friends Eric and Kate to see what their game-day plans were. Would we meet at the Coconut Grove in Bellingham? The Brown Lantern in Anacortes and Tyler and Eric would bike there like the used to? Was someone hosting a party we could crash? But they said something rather odd:

“Why don’t we blow off the game and head out to the islands?”

The thought had never occurred to me that watching the Super Bowl was optional. If you don’t have to work on that day, you plan on eating your weight in chips and dips, and consuming all of your liquids through beer.

But to boycott the event that sums up the entire football season? It seemed strange.

I’m a 49ers’ fan, Ty loves his Broncos, and Eric was still upset over the Packers’ loss to the Seachickens two weeks earlier. To hell with America’s day — we were heading to the Anacortes ferry first thing Sunday morning.

We caught the 9 a.m. ferry over to Friday Harbor where we feasted on a wonderful spread provided by Kate. As we savored our breakfast, you could tell all the other passengers were anxious to get to their game-day destinations. Some were pacing around in their Seattle jerseys, while others just sported team colors and sat patiently waiting for the ferry to dock. But us? We had no such plans.

If you get a chance, I recommend having an adventure on Super Bowl Sunday. No ferry lines, all the hiking trails are empty, and you can enjoy a bottle of Pouilly Fuisse with your friends on a beach without any intruders. 

And I think magical things happen. I got to stand in Spongebob Squarepants' house (yes, a pineapple, but not under the sea), and I saw a camel. What more could a girl ask for?

As the day went on it felt like we were survivors of a zombie apocalypse wandering around. The streets were deserted; all business had posted the same type of 12^th man signs on their front doors; and only the strange odd-balls were out roaming the streets. 

We didn’t boycott the championship altogether. We stopped in for a beer and caught the last half of the game. I guess there is something to be said for being sporting addicts. Even though we set out to have a football free day, we couldn’t rid ourselves of the innate desire to watch watch the culmination on the season. 

But it didn’t hijack our entire day.