The day started in our car, a Chiefs flag attached to the window, lined up to get into the parking lot at the precise time that would ensure we got prime parking in order to tailgate under the best possible conditions. It was sunny, sixty degrees, and we were with our dear friends. It was like having Thanksgiving in Heaven. Knowing we’d flown 1500 miles to enjoy this creative interpretation of a traditional holiday, our dear hosts made every preparation to ensure a turkey dinner that was superior to any meal we would’ve eaten anywhere else. They smoked a turkey. They had stuffing and mashed potatoes warming on a grill. They had hot wassail and cold beers. They made a soundtrack for our tailgate party that included not only AC/DC, the Rolling Stones, and other arena rock songs, but also a little Frank Sinatra Christmas to get us into the holiday spirit. From the back of their SUV, they produced a table, a tent, comfortable seating, and even a turkey shaped chef’s hat to create that in-the-kitchen feeling of having a down-home Thanksgiving meal. After tossing around a football, gazing fondly at Arrowhead stadium and drinking a lot of stiff wassail, we feasted. And it was good. The Chiefs were champs that day, and looking back on the blessed occasion, I shed a tear for the new tradition we created.
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