Pilgrimage of a Packer

Muslims make a pilgrimage to Mecca during The Hajj.

Horse racing fanatics make a pilgrimage to Churchill downs on the first Saturday in May.

And obese teenagers make a daily pilgrimage to Burger King seconds after the school bell rings.

Hear now the Pilgrimage of a Packer.

We were in Ao Nang, Thailand living the life of a sun-burned vagabond when the Green and Gold chromosomes in our blood sent out an urgent news flash to our cerebellums, informing us of an upcoming pilgrimage that needed to happen. No questions asked. There was no alternative.

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.

And so our pilgrimage began dark and early on Super Bowl Monday Morning (not as catchy). We unzipped our tent at 5:12 am, but I blinked awake, heart pounding, mind tingling with anticipation at least four times during the night. And so we began our hike into town with only the stars to guide us.

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.

After hiking on the beach for a mile-ish, we came to a 100 yard channel of salt water that was at least 20 feet deep. Along the beach we hit some muddy slush. Nature was rearing its slimy head and trying to sabotage our pilgrimage. Matt was up to his northern thighs in muck, Ted looked like a rare breed of rhino doing a rare breed of ballet, and Dani’s “Ghandi pants” will never be the same.

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.

There were no boats to take us across the channel. All of their drivers with calloused feet were sawing wood. My yells of urgency and my polite pleas were met with silence. As the sun crept higher, so did our anxiety – kickoff was at 6:25, it was only getting lighter. Finally someone stirred and a little Thai man in a kayak paddled to take us across one at a time. Little did this man know what a monstrously vital role he played in our pilgrimage.

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.

The final leg of our pilgrimage was me persuading a groggy Thai fella who owned a nice pickup truck but no dental hygiene habits to truck us into town. In the back of the pickup we were all smiles, G-shaped hearts thumping to the same beat – Bum, Bum, Ba da dum dum…

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.

And so we sunburned and sandy pilgrims sprinted into O’Malley’s Irish Pub at 6:37 in the am. Rejoicing that we made it to the promised land and were able to cheer on our boys as they finished a 20 game pilgrimage of their own.

The Pilgrimage of a Packer.