You arrive at Port Authority and head upstairs for the terminal for the 351 bus to take you to MetLife. You immediately notice other fans wearing Jets gear. A lot of other fans. There's already quite a line, and as a bus arrives, it's clear you'll have to wait for the next one. As you patiently wait, another fan behind you notices your jersey, and says, "Shugarts? Is that your name? You got a custom jersey?" You contemplate sharing the JB Shugarts lore, but too late, he's now talking your ear off about who the #2 WR should be, and how Tippman should play guard. The next bus finally arrives, and you grab a window seat. Much to your horror, the annoying fan sits next to you. It's gonna be a long ride. You sit there regretting not having brought earbuds, and attempt to politely end the conversation, but all your signals are ignored. Now he's talking about how Will McDonald is undersized and can't hold down a starting job. You contemplate stabbing him but find that you don't have an appropriate tool, and it would probably make you late. Instead you stare at your phone, trying to figure out who sent you the ticket.
Finally, you arrive at Parking Lot K, with a long walk to the stadium. What do you do?
[[Check out the tailgate]]
[[Enter the stadium]]You walk over to your car that you had to park three blocks away last night. It's Sunday morning, traffic shouldn't be too bad, right?
You make your way down to the Queensboro bridge, but as you cross over and hit midtown, the traffic is at a standstill. It takes you 40 minute to make it across to the Lincoln tunnel. Idiot! You should have taken the bridge. As you drive 3 mph through the tunnel, you regret having that Monster drink earlier - you really have to pee.
As you exit the tunnel, you're dying. You consider peeing in the empty can, but that feels unadvisable.
What do you do?
[[Head for the nearest bathroom]]
[[Try to hold it]]Unfortunately, the delay lasts for several hours. You stare at your phone in desperation as the game starts. Some time in the second quarter, your phone's battery dies. Disaster.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] Your eyes wonder to the emergency stop sign. You take a deep breath, look around to make sure the conductor is not in the line of sight, and smash the plastic cover. You pull the lever and manually pull open the door. You hear screaming behind you but they're too late, you jump out and run across the grass to the nearest street.
What now? You look at the time on your phone: you could still make it but you have to hurry. You pull up the Uber app and request a ride. After a short wait, Vitaly accepts your request. A few minute laster, he pulls up in a black BMW. You get in.
"Going to the stadium, eh?" Vitaly asks in a heavy Russian accent.
You nod. The car smells faintly of cigarettes and an unidentiable but nausesea inducing cologne. The driver is playing some kind of a Russian? song that sounds like it was recorded in a bathroom. He gazes at you through the mirror.
"So my friend...what do you think about Ukraine?"
You freeze. How does he want you to answer?
[[Fuck Russia->Ukraine]]
[[I heard Urkaine has a bunch of Nazis->Russia]]fYou get through the gate, still somewhat in awe to have such a great seat, seemingly for free? You grab an overpriced beer on the way - you deserve it after all that.
The captains are walking out to midfield just as you arrive at your seat and sit down.
"Glad you made it, buddy."
You turn to a man sitting in a seat next to you. He's wearing the new rivalry jersey. It's a dark desturated green...or is it gray? Almost...gunmetal gray if it grew mold? Grayeen^^TM^^?
"I'm Gregg. Nice to finally meet you."
(text-colour:#2b8a3e)[LET'S GO JETS]You use your phone to look up the nearest bathroom, and make the turn to the Weehawken Waterfront Park.
It's a nice day so all the spots are taken...except a handicapped spot. You can't wait anymore, so you take the spot and run to the bathroom. Aaaaaah...what a relief. You barely made it.
You walk outside, admiring the city skyling that Buffalo and Kansas City could only dream about, just to see a cop standing by your car writing a ticket. Great.
[[Try to talk him out of it]]
[[Accept your fate]]You hop on the N train. Surprisingly there are no major delays. You sit across from a man in a black hoodie casually feeding a crow on his shoulder. The crow stares at you. This isn't ominous at all.
Nevertheless, you cross the river into the city.
You can hop off at 42nd to walk over to Port Authority to take a bus, or wait for 34th and take a train from Penn Station.
What do you do?
[[Bus]]
[[Train]]"Oh you a fucking vatnik? Get fuck out of my car!"
He suddenly pulls over to the side of the road, turns towards you, and pulls out a large, sharp looking knife. "Now."
You frantically struggle with the door handle until you can finally throw the door open and stumble out. The car revs its engine and pulls away. You're left shocked and discombabulated somewhere in Secaucus off of Route 3. Metlife is a couple of miles away on the other side of the Hackensack River. No pedestrian crossings nearby. The game starts in 20 minutes.
What do you do?
[[Walk to the train station ->Station]]
[[Try to hail a ride]]It's the morning of the first Sunday of the 2025 NFL season. Miraculously, your favorite team, the Jets, have made it through preseason ~~without major injuries~~ //with just the one standard season ending injury to one of their best players//. You're cautiously optimistic about the new regime. All set to watch it from the comfort of your living room somewhere in Astoria, you check your email, and...someone has sent you a ticket to the game. The sender is anonymous, but you verify the ticket and it's legit. Not only that, it's a good seat. Can't pass this up! Though you wonder who the mystery benefactor is. You glance at the clock - you can make it but you gotta hurry. You quickly throw on your J.B. Shugarts jersey, grab your keys and wallet, and head out.
But how to get there?
[[Public Transportation]]
[[Car]]You walk to the Secaucus train station. As you approach, you see a large crowd of visibly angry people outside. You ask a random person and they tell you that the whole station is closed because of "that fucking bull."
You glance at your phone - the game is starting soon. You see a group of fans in Jets gear suddenly pushing their way across to a nearby corner. "Yo! Check this shit out!"
And then you see it - a large party bus pulls up. The doors open and the driver yells, "$50 to get to the game!"
Some hesitate. What do you do?
[[Get on the party bus]]
[[Try another way]]You make your way to Penn Station to jump on the NJT train to Seacaucus. You push your way through the clueless tourists, glance at the Nathan's and consider grabbing a hot dog, but there's no time. You jump on the train and you're on your way.
Unfortunately just as the train emerges from the tunnel shortly before reaching Seacaucus, the train stops. You hear a generic announcement stating that there's a delay and the train should be moving again shortly. You grab your phone and scour xitter for relevant info. Soon, you find it: somehow a bull has escaped and is roaming the NJT rails ahead of you. WTF! This could take forever. What do you do?
[[A Stay on the train->Delay]]
[[Pull the emergency lever->Emergency]] You haven't hitchhiked since you were...19 maybe? You stand on the side of the road and give the international sign. A car passes you by. Another. And another.
As minutes pass, you realize that in this age, no one wants to pick up a random hitchhiker. Most drivers ignore you or give you a confused look.
Then, you see it. A green van, painted with the (new!) Jets logo, sporting multiple Jets flags. You frantically wave at it, pointing at your own jersey. The van slows to a stop as it passes you. You run up to it.
"Hey man, sweet jersey! Going to the game?"
You try to explain your situation, knowing that the bull story sounds like...well, bull. But the group inside, which by the smell seems to have already smoked up a fair bit, seems aminable.
"Jump in!"
You climb in, and immidiately a joint is passed to you.
[[Take a hit]]
[[Decline politely->Checkpoint]]You squeeze your legs together uncomfortablY as you drive down 495 towards the stadium. You turn up the sound as your stereo plays the new Chris Stapleton banger. You start pounding the steering wheel in an attempt to distract yourself, as a long stream of curses leaves your mouth. If anyone looked at you right now, they'd be concerned that the driver was having a mental health incident, but no one cares.
Alas, before you can reach the stadium, you bladder can no longer hold it. As the dark stain spreads across your brand new jorts, you realize you can't show up to the opener looking like this.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] "Good. Good. I'm actually Ukranian, from Kharkiv. Fucking orcs blew up the old building I used to live in."
He proceeds to tell you the story of how he came here, as you turn onto Route 3 and head towards the stadium.
You arrive at the rideshare drop off spot in parking lot E. There's still 45 minutes before kickoff. What do you do?
[[Check out the tailgate]]
[[Enter the stadium]]You hand over the fifty bucks to the driver and get on the bus. Inside a loud bassline shakes the floor, party lights sweep across, and the front of the bus is occupied by a stripper pole.
The driver yells at everyone to take a seat, and shout to not touch the pole.
Meanwhile other people have immediately located a mini fridge stocked with Coronas, and its contents are immediately passed around. You take one and down it, figuring a little pre-game won't hurt, and you've already had a bit of a day.
As the stadium grows larger and a bit of warmth hits you from the beer, you keep looking at the pole. A group sitting near you notices you, and starts to jokingly encourage you to go try it out.
[[Try out your pole moves]]
[[Stay seated->Checkpoint]]
Confident that you can do it like the dancers in the clubs you've been to, and with other jets fans yelling encouragements, you grab the pole, spin around it, and attempt to jump on it. Turns out poles are slippery and your grip slips, and you land awkardly on the floor with a loud thud. Ouch. The direver immediately starts cursing, "what the fuck, i told you not to touch the pole!" He pulls over to the side of the highway, now with the stadium parking lot just across the grass divide. "Everybody get the fuck out!"
Fortunately, you're basically here, just have a bit of a walk across the lots.
[[Enter the stadium]] You inhale, noticing immediately that this is some potent shit. You worry briefly, but remember it's legal in NJ, and this crew seems chill. You start talking about possible personnel packages for the Jets offense, while someone hands you a pastrami ~~grinder~~ sub. Life is good.
And then...lights. Siren. You're being pulled over.
Weed// is// legal, but not in a moving vehicle, falling under open container laws. Crap.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] As the vehicle approaches the stadium, you suddenly notice it's beinf flagged to pull to a back section of the lot. The are some kind of law enforcement vehicles. Is that...ICE?
"Fuck!" you hear behind you. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
Before you can come to terms with what is happening, everyone is herded outside and lined up. Your heart is pounding. Masked agents, wearing mismatched vests and Shein tactical pants, walk through the line. One stops and stares at you.
[[I'm white]]
[[I'm brown]]After a minute of bored questioning, you are let go. There's still time to get to the game.
[[Enter the stadium]] Despite vehement protests that you're a citizen, you're ignored and led towards an unmarked van.
[[Run]]
[[Comply]]
You size up the agent pushing you towards the van. His gut shows below the vest. You think you can outrun him. Other agents seem to be smugly confident, leaning on the heels of boots that clearly haven't been broken in. You make the snap decision, using a swim move from your HS football days to get your agent off balance and slip out of his control, and sprint towards the crowded lot, hurdling the DO NOT CROSS tape encircling this section like Brian Leonard over an Illinois linebacker. Two agents take off after you, but they don't have the 40 speed to catch up to you. You've caught the attention of some of the crowd, and people close in behind you to get in the way of the chasing agents. You tear off your precious but unfortunately uniquely identifiable JB Shugarts jersey, throw it to some confused teen, and manage to lose the agents. Phew.
[[Enter the stadium]]
You're handcuffed and pushed into an unmarked van. Inside several others are already sitting gloomly on a bench. Well this sucks.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] You scramble for another way to get to the stadium, but looks like Uber has somehow blacklisted you (WTF?). You hear rumors of the team sending buses, but none are here yet. You watch sadly on your phone as the game starts.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] You start telling the cop the whole story, how you were driving to the game, how you had to go, and couldn't find a parking spot.
The cop looks at your jersey and smirks, and you already know he's a Giants fan.
"I'm sorry sir, but we have a new ordinance that requires us to tow the car for handicapped spot parking violations" he says with what you now realize is a Staten Island accent.
"Wha...what??"
"Step aside."
What a nightmare. You just wanted to pee.
(text-colour:red)[''YOU'VE FAILED''] Well, that fine is gonna sting, but nothing you can do. You accept the ticket, get in the car, just to remember that you need to buy a parking pass. You grab your phone and manage to snag one. That would have sucked.
Still time to ge to the game on time...if the traffic gods smile upon you.
Nearing the stadium, you get caught up in the inevitable traffic, but are able to park before the game start. You rush over to the gate...
[[Enter the stadium]] Everyone fills their cup with a shot of beer, and walks around a folding table while a DJ bumps vintage 90s Jock Jams. When the music stops, everyone must down their shot and flip their cup. The last one is out - repeat until only one is left.
(set: $CupFinish to (random: 1,10))
From a group of 10, you finish #(print: $CupFinish).
{(if: $CupFinish is 1)[
Wow. Your skills from the old dorm days apparently haven't atrophied. You are the champion! You are presented with a plastic medal and a tall boy IPA.
](elseif: $CupFinish < 4)[
Pretty good! Your cup flipping skills didn't completely fail you. You get a plastic medal and a custom made Tailgate Champion cup.
](else:)[
Alas, not good enough to medal, but that was fun.
]}
[[Enter the stadium]] Just what it sounds like. A classic folding table is arranged with a vertical board splitting the middle, and one each side a gridded 10x10 board. Each side contains the standard set of "ships", trays holding 1 to 4 cups, depending on the ship type. Objective: sink all opponent's ships before they can sink yours.
A tournament of 8 begins.
(set: $BattleshipRound to 1)
[[Begin->Play Battleship Pong]]
This is what you think it is. Cornhole with pickleball rackets.
You will play in a tournament of 8.
(set: $CornballRound to 1)
[[Begin->Play Cornball Picklehole]] Battlehsip Pong Round (print: $BattleshipRound)!
{(if: (random:1,100) < 50)[
{(if: $BattleshipRound is 1)[
With your final submarine sunk, your hopes are dashed. Good game.
](else-if: $BattleshipRound is 2)[
A rough round, your navy is sunk before you can make much headway.
](else:)[
So close! Unable to finish off a destroyer, you're out.
]}
Oh well. That was fun, and now you're just a little happier.
[[Enter the stadium]]
](else:)[
{(if: $BattleshipRound is 1)[
You sunk their battleship!
(set: $BattleshipRound to $BattleshipRound + 1)
[[Move on to round (print: $BattleshipRound)->Play Battleship Pong]]
](else-if: $BattleshipRound is 2)[
A masterful round, the opponent's navy is quickly destroyed.
(set: $BattleshipRound to $BattleshipRound + 1)
[[Move on to round (print: $BattleshipRound)->Play Battleship Pong]]
](else:)[
Victory! With only a submarine left, you finish off your opponent! A fake gold medal and a plastic battleship toy inscribed with "Tailgate Olympics Champion" is your reward.
[[Enter the stadium]]
]}
]}You browse the tailgate offerings. Passing several overcooked burgers, checking to see if potato salads have raising in them, while avoid poorly thrown footballs being tossed around, you come across a lively large group running what appears to be...tailgate olympics? They notice your jersey and in appreciation invite you to join them.
What event do you want to try participating in?
[[Musical Flip Cups]]
[[Battleship Pong]]
[[Cornball Picklehole]]
[[This is far too undignified for your sensibilities->Enter the stadium]]Cornball Picklehole Round (print: $CornballRound)!
{(if: (random:1,100) < 50)[
{(if: $CornballRound is 1)[
Who came up with this fucking game? You were nowhere close.
](else-if: $CornballRound is 2)[
Looks like beginner's luck has run out. Game over.
](else:)[
You really thought you had it, but not this time. So close.
]}
Oh well. That was fun, and now you're just a little happier.
[[Enter the stadium]]
](else:)[
{(if: $CornballRound is 1)[
Beginner's luck? You managed to hit the hole twice.
(set: $CornballRound to $CornballRound + 1)
[[Move on to round (print: $CornballRound)->Play Cornball Picklehole]]
](else-if: $CornballRound is 2)[
Wow, your luck continues! Another victory.
(set: $CornballRound to $CornballRound + 1)
[[Move on to round (print: $CornballRound)->Play Cornball Picklehole]]
](else:)[
Amazing! Seems like you're a natural at...whatever the fuck this is. As a reward, you get a fake gold medal and custom Tailgate Olympics Chapion t-shirt two sizes too big for you. Nice.
[[Enter the stadium]]
]}
]}