The Super Bowl is a very exciting time for some people. People throw parties, drink beer, and holler like cavemen in their living room when their team has the ball. The kitchen becomes a mess of cheetos, deviled eggs and hamburger patties, all rotting on the counters, because everyone knows that this time of the year in Florida, you have to have your windows open. Then again, there are the commercials, a slight perk in-between the “Big Game.” However, even these cant ease the wild roars of the animals in the room, all arguing amongst themselves who will win, how stupid a player was, and who would go for another beer run.

Half time is enough time to quiet the beasts. Eighties people like Prince are the typical half time singers, and the people who are old enough to remember, talking and reminiscing their days as a youth. When big hair was in and leg warmers were fashionable. Then, after the half time comes to a close, the chaos starts all over again, and you are left wondering if, in truth, we had ever left the Stone Age.

The only time the animals are silent is at the end, when everything is coming down to the wire, a close game, where anyone can win. There is tension between the people and the TV. They look ready to lunge out of their butt-imprinted seats. One team throws the ball; another team steals the ball away. That’s when screams start bellowing, like trains screeching on a track.

“STOP HIM!” Some of the animals shout.

“GO! GO!” The others scream.

Soon, it is all over. The battle is won. Streamers float in the stadium on TV congratulating the winning team, and the people watching, the normally manly men, hug each other, sobbing like infants. That’s just the Super Bowl.