An insult?

Not long ago I was called a "book worm" by a drunken, loud sports fan at an Iowa Hawkeye basketball game. In fact my wife and I were hassled pretty much throughout the game by "accidental" bumps, too-loud comments and generally sophomoric behavior that would be better suited to the student section of the arena. These assholes were so obnoxious an elderly couple who became the target of their bile early in the game got up and left. Their offense? Being fans of the opposing team.

The volume and profanity of the ongoing tirades was so loud that people three and four rows down were turning around to see what the commotion was all about. Quite a few people sitting around this crew of meatheads asked/told them to clean up their language and to act like "True Hawkeye fans" but those comments only redirected the drunks' stupidity onto them.

Finally after an "accidental" bump on Joleen, I turned around and told them to knock it off. Of course this led to them turning their ire directly on us. Then one of the louder ones started to berate me for reading a book during timeouts and for dozing off at previous games. This when he called me a bookworm. Wow, these bozos have been watching me this long? They certainly aren't that much interested in the game if they take note of us!

Something else that was laughable was how they justified their rudeness. They loudly declared that because they paid for their tickets that entitled them to be as loud and obnoxious as they wanted to be. Of course, that everyone else sitting around them just wanted to watch the game but that didn't count.

As the asshole continued his diatribe, I asked him if he had purchased my ticket and just why in the hell it bothered him so much. His unintelligible reply was laced with a few profanities and hardly worth writing about however, a drunk is just a drunk but an angry drunk is a threat so I put my book away (a excellent biography of T. E. Lawrence BTW), pulled my spyderco from its hiding place so I could slice and dice them if need be.

I must point out that during this whole time not one single permar security puke, U of I rent-a-cop or police officer was to be found. I know they were there, because they are thick as thieves on the upper level and lower level of the arena but are rarely if ever seen patrolling the aisles. I must also point out that during this whole mess my wife was trying to text the emergency number for security so she could report the escalating situation. Over a month later we are still waiting on a response to her text.

Later, as the game drew to an end with the Hawks losing to the hated Iowa State Cyclones the drunks vented their spleens at the players to "Man up" and then started back up with the crowd because according to these boozer-losers the rest of us weren't cheering loud enough for a Hawks' victory. Most people in our section just tried to ignore them.

Ascending the stairs with a couple minutes left in the game I was struck by the sheer number of "security" people hanging around up on the main level; some texting, some eating, chit-chatting with each other but an inordinate number of them leaning over the railing with their attention focused solely on the game! And many of these gawkers were armed police officers! Their service weapons and tasers within easy reach of anyone who was feeling froggy. I guess watching the game and hassling people by searching their belongings is way more important than doing their job of providing any type of security.

I bring this event up only because we were back at the arena last night for another dismal showing of the Hawkeyes. Anyway, partway through the game, three or four young men came over to speak to the people sitting directly in front of us. They were courteous and non-obtrusive as they kneeled in the aisle talking but trying to keep out everyone's way. They hadn't been there 2 minutes when out of nowhere a permar SUPERVISOR swooped down on them with the admonition to "clear the aisle or ELSE!"

Well, I guess I've vented my spleen about enough for tonight. Life ain't fair, but it's the only one we have. Next time maybe I'll stick one of them and see if they change their tune

Woody out.

Another trip to Hawkeye Nation

In what some people would call supreme irony, my wife is an avid sports fan whereas I can take it or leave it. While I enjoy sitting in Wrigley Field and watching the Cubbies and yes, I admit that I have become a Cubs fan; it will never be with the fervor that she espouses. Nonetheless, I do hope they get back in the World Series one of these days. On top of the Cubs season tickets, we also have season tickets for Hawkeye football and basketball. Therefore, we get to go through security quite frequently.

Today I am “girding my loins” for another Hawkeye football excursion tomorrow, the biggest thing I am dreading is the inevitable search of our belongings after we show our over-priced ticket. I won’t bore you with the sundry things I carry in my fanny pack, but apparently the rent-a-cops and security wieners are fascinated by its contents. Never clear on what they are looking for, they poke around until they are satisfied that they have pissed me off totally before letting me pass.

For those of you who are not familiar with Hawkeye Nation, they don’t allow bags bigger than the size of a standard piece of paper (8 ½ x 11) – okay, I can appreciate this “standard” but the painfully obtuse method of measuring for go or no-go is without a doubt the dumbest methodology I have ever endured. A quick fix would be to follow the example of the airlines with a box of the requisite size to use a simple go/no go process of if it fits it is good to go, but noooooo, THAT would be too simple and far too user friendly to be implemented. Instead each of the security people have a sheet of paper torn from a notebook to check bag sizes. A clumsy method at best.

I watched one woman unsuccessfully try to bring in a purse whose dimensions were within the required dimensions, however, it had fringe that exceeded the sheet of paper rule and despite an attempt at reason she was rebuffed at the gate with a threat to “call the police.” Of course, this arbitrary standard is not necessarily adhered to at every point of entry so it is quite possible that this frustrated fan went to another gate to gain admission. If not she was probably not a very nice person after a hurried trip back to her car.

Do not attempt to reason with the Per-Mar or university security people. These minimum–wage earners are likely to follow their orders as if they came from a burning bush. Just two weeks ago I made a point of putting my items into a clear plastic bag in an effort to get through “security” a little more quickly, thinking that despite it being larger than a piece of paper that its translucence would obviate that failure. Boy was I wrong. The people in the cheap yellow jackets said I could not use this plastic bag because it wasn’t from the Hawk Shop! I had to remove my bottles of water and carry them in without the benefit of a bag.

Last year I had one of those lightweight bags that were originally designed to carry sneakers but have become a ubiquitous giveaway especially at sporting events. Anyway, I was told I couldn’t bring the bag inside the stadium. Okaaaaay, fair enough, we emptied the contents into various coat pockets. But as I started to stuff the offending bag into a semi-empty pocket, I was told that I wouldn’t be able to bring the empty bag in either. Never mind the fact that I could have walked 20 feet and purchased another one just like it from THE HAWK SHOP! Luckily, this time, common sense prevailed and another Per-Mar guy told me to just move along

Having been in airport security I can appreciate the necessity of bag searches when warranted but when it comes to entering a sports complex, the reason behind the searches is never clearly explained. One time I tried to enter Carver-Hawkeye Arena with a pocketknife. I’d forgotten it was in my bag and since it does look a little wicked, the bag searcher’s head about exploded upon seeing it. He started quoting off all sorts of non-existent Homeland Security directives about it being a weapon, etc so rather than argue with him, I walked out and back into another door – with the pocket knife stuffed securely in my jeans pocket. Hey, it was January in Iowa; I wasn’t about to walk the mile back to our car. Troublemaker that I am I went on to my seat, used the knife to peel an apple and watched the game. Later, unsure if the yellow-jacketed one was correct my wife did a quick web search and discovered that in fact it WAS NOT big enough to be considered a weapon by any law enforcement standards after all!

As regular visitors to Wrigley Field, we often pack a lunch and snacks for our trips to watch the Cubs, the security folks are always very courteous and understanding about bringing food and drinks into the ball park. I can’t recall a time being turned back for an offending item. Once the searcher found my Swiss Army knife, hesitated only a second before asking me not to stab anyone with it and let me go on my way.

So, is it weapons, alcohol or food? In Hawkeye Nation, they have a vague prohibition about bringing food to a game. While it is irksome to have some booger-eater pawing through my bag for God knows what but to have them decide one time that a food item was okay and the next time that the very same thing doesn’t meet their idea of a “snack” is absolutely infuriating. If the college would ratchet back the outrageous prices they charge for food maybe po’ folk like me wouldn’t try to smuggle in dinner! I won’t even get into the criminal prices they charge just to get into the games!

Last but not least, it is the smug superiority of some of these rent-a-cops that really gets me!

Here’s another example of idiocy in action. One night standing in line to enter the arena, a U of I security guard very rudely asked me what was in my pants cargo pocket. Not being on my toes, I made the mistake of telling him the truth, “a bottle of water,” and turned back to the business of getting through security. No one else said anything and I continued on my way. Shortly afterwards I saw this troll pointing me out of the crowd to “real” cops. All I could think of was here it comes! Boy these guys were textbook cops, spreading out so they were in a semi-circle around me and confronted me about the bulge in my pocket – like I said I wasn’t on my game that night so I again replied that it was a bottle of water. When asked to show it to them I pulled it out and by gosh it was what I told them it was. Using their massively analytical brains they noticed the other cargo pocket was bulging too and I produced yet another bottle of water. Okay, so far so good right? Na-ah, Old Barney Fife and Goober Pyle proceeded to dress me down about not complying with instructions and that the next time someone tells me to show them what was in my pockets to do it! Of course I tried to explain to these two mental giants that the rent-a-cop didn’t ask me to show him anything, he asked a question, I responded and went on my way through security and if it HAD been such a problem that maybe the boob should have stopped me BEFORE going through security! The shorter cop kept saying that I was supposed to comply with instructions to which I replied that I had complied and that he never asked to see what was in my pocket! Arrrrgh!

As I said, I understand the necessity of safety measures having been involved with airport security but my Gawd! Make the insanity stop! Tomorrow is another day and another Hawkeye football game; wanna put a wager on me getting hassled again?