I checked the address for the seventeenth time. I glanced up and down the run down street. The street numbers were absent from the dilapidated buildings. How was I going to find this place? I should have known better than to trust Charlie. He swore this guy would have Super Bowl tickets. I walked to the alley adjacent the tallest building on the street. I saw a faint light glowing out of a barred door. I walked towards the only visible sign of life around. The door was locked. I knocked several times. Finally a face appeared. He struggled to unlock the door but finally let me in.
He was an ancient Chinese man. He had white wispy hair and long white mustache In a grumpy broken accent he said, "What you want? Why you here?" I tried to assess the situation. The air was heavy with incense and the lighting was very dim. A long hallway lay straight ahead with doors branching off of it. I asked in a confused voice, " Do you have Super Bowl tickets for sale?" The Chinese man became angry. He growled, "Supa Bowl Tickets? I no have Supa Bowl Tickets. Dis is whore house. You want you dick sucked o what? You a cop o something?" I became flushed with embarrassment and thought, "Goddamn Charlie!"
I got out of the whore house and called Charlie, "You son of a bitch! Why did you send me to a whore house?" Charlie laughed uncontrollably on the other end of the phone. I thought he was going to pass out. He finally replied, "What did Chin Lee say to you?" I said, "That old man thought I was a cop. I could of got my ass kicked." Charlie laughed some more. He said, "Stop Roman! You're killing me. I would have loved to have seen your face." I angrily snapped, "You are such a dick head. What was the purpose of this?" Charlie calmed his laughing a bit and said, "You wanted to go to the Super Bowl don't you?" I quipped, "Of course, but how does sending me to a whore house accomplish that?" Charlie jovially said, "Roman my man, to make up for this little prank I am surprising you with two tickets to the Super Bowl. We have tickets to one of the best suite parties there." I asked with great trepidation, "Is this for real, Charlie?" He confidently said, "No bullshit Roman. We leave on Friday after work; my treat." I cautiously said, "OK Charlie. That's sounds awesome, but I'm still pissed about this." Charlie laughed.
This afternoon we made our way over to Sun Life Stadium. The weather was perfect; mid-sixties with a light breeze. We stopped at a little Cuban bar and had some sandwiches and a few pints of beer. Charlie and I talked about how sweet it was going to be to watch the Colts smash the Saints. We both made sizable bets on our Colts to cover the four point spread. It was a good afternoon. A little bit ago, we started walking to the stadium to see if we could get in a little early. Charlie started getting some stomach cramps on the way over. He complained of being light headed as well. The guy checking the tickets told us we couldn't get into the suite yet, but we could get into the stadium. I said, "Charlie let's find a place for you to sit down. You look terrible." He nodded. I opened up a janitor's closet. Charlie was so sick he didn't even notice. I sat him down in a wooden chair and quickly handcuffed him to a water pipe. I said, "Charlie, at lunch I slipped enough laxatives into your beer to kill a person. Here's a jug of water to stay hydrated. Enjoy the game bitch!" I slammed the door, stuck an old house key into the lock, and snapped it off inside. The suite is awesome. I am sitting here in a leather recliner, drinking a beer, and watching the kickers warm up while whistling the Monday Night Football Theme.