Last night, the Chambéry Aigles (Eagles) played in the championship football game against the Lyon Falcons. Who knew that American football was popular in a mountain town in the French Alps? According to my fiancé, the rivalry between the Aigles and the Falcons is equivalent to that of the St. Louis Cardinals and the Chicago Cubs-- ie: the players and spectators HATE one another. The overall tension between the two was hilarious.
After purchasing a ticket to the game, Aigles
got plastic yellow horns. The spectators were ecstatic about this small compensation for their devotion to the team, and did not stop blowing said horns for the entire game. Perhaps an earlier introduction of music programs into French
schools would be beneficial; the tunes played on those cheap plastic horns were quite nice. I can only imagine the harmonious results of hundreds of musically trained Aigles fans.
Once inside the stadium, personal space was an issue yet again. While seated, my knees were on the shoulders of the girl in front of me. The teenage boy next to me was so close that I could smell his laundry detergent. It was a nice smell. Almost immediately upon sitting, someone behind me began stroking my hair. I informed Robin of this problem, and he turned to look, reporting that "No, it's not that guy's hand, it's his horn." Hmmmmm. In order to avoid having the back of my cranium fondled by a total stranger's horn, I decided to read the book I had in my purse. That only lasted for a little while, because the light began to fade and the cacophony of human voices and yellow horns grew distracting. Once it got too dark to read, I paid close attention to the burgeoning love triangle next to me, which was comprised of Laundry Detergent boy and two teenage girls. The girls, in an attempt to seem more appealing to the boy, were laughing and reading their text messages out loud. When one of them fell out of her seat, the boy laughed. Since he was practically seated on top of me, I wanted to lean over and say "Go for it man!" but couldn't do so in French, and Robin refused to translate for me. Oh well. It was entertaining while it lasted, and it kept me from having to endure watching the sport that I abhor more than all others.
The end of the game was quite entertaining. There was a lot of yelling and horn playing, butbeside that, I don't really know what was going on. The Aigles ended up winning the game (13-7 was the final score). People were screaming and running out onto the field in celebration. Someone let loose two little French bulldogs, decked out in Aigles t-shirts. The famous songs by Queen, "We Are the Champions" and "We Will Rock You" blared over the loudspeakers. Part of me wonders what would have happened had the Aigles lost...