by Daisy Barringer
We’d just arrived at Candlestick when I politely declined a scalpers offer to buy tickets and was rewarded with a fairly substantial ass-grab. “That guy just felt my ass!” I exclaimed to Julie, my partner-in-crime for the day. Too flabbergasted to know what to say, and realizing he was likely already lost in the crowd, I opted to walk away without reacting. If I’d only known then that was just the beginning
The difference in attending a 49ers’ game with a girl rather than with a dude is kind of amazing. Within ten minutes, Julie and I had been eye-fucked so hard I was scared we’d catch an STD. A guy with a horn on his hat spearing a Raider said he wanted his picture taken with us because we were “a couple of hotties.” Walking through the crowded parking lot to find our friends who’d crashed a Raiders’ tailgate, we were forced into numerous hugging situations with male 49ers’ fans (one of whom, after I explained mid-bear hug that I’m just not that into hugging, pushed me away and said, “I don’t want to hug some ugly chick anyway,” which would have hurt my feelings except, um, I just got my ass grabbed and called a hottie. So there.)
