Page 30 of Atlas
Out of us eight Broncos' fans, Miranda, Michael, and Atlas had never been true fans to begin with, and when Jeff and the other Dallas Cowboys' fans showed true sportsmanship and complimented some of the Broncos' players on a great game, the rest of us Broncos' fans surrendered and celebrated the Cowboys’ victory with them.
“Are you happy you came?” I asked Atlas as our driver took us back in the direction of my house.
“Yes. It was fun.”
I sighed and gave a tipsy smile. “It was way more than fun. It was magical, and I’ll remember this day till the day I die.”
The truth was that as soon as the refs blew the whistle for kick-off, I had forgotten all my plans of asking Atlas some hard questions about his agenda for the research. Doing it today would have been perfect since he was a little drunk for sure, but we’d run out of time.
He sunk back in his seat and looked out the window. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, me too,” I muttered low. “I could eat another one of those stadium hotdogs right now. Weren’t they amaaazing?”
“No.” He chuckled low. “They might taste like nostalgia to you, but to me, they tasted like utter shit.”
“Fine. Maybe I oversold them a little, but hey, it doesn’t have to be a hotdog. I could eat a burger or some fried chicken.” I widened my eyes and grabbed his arm. “No, waffles. I’m definitely in the mood for waffles.”
“Then I know just the place.” Atlas leaned forward and spoke to the driver. “Do you know Freddy’s Diner?”
“Everyone knows Freddy’s Diner.”
“Would you mind taking us, please?”
“No problem.”
“No, Atlas, we can’t ask him to do that. It’s late, and the nice driver probably has a family at home waiting for him. Sorry, sir, but we don’t want to keep you up in the middle of the night.”
Atlas looked back at me before he told the man, “It’s your call. I promise to tip well.”
“I’m happy to take you both. I have the night shift and have to be on call anyway. Having something to do makes time go faster.”
Atlas smiled. “In that case, Freddy’s Diner it is.”
“You’re my waffle hero,” I told the driver. “Thank you. I didn’t think this day could get better after being at my first Super Bowl, but waffles at 2 a.m. will make it epic.”
The driver chuckled. “Super Bowl, huh? That must have been some experience.”
“Have you ever gone?”
“No, miss. My friend did a few years back, and the money he paid for that ticket could have taken him on a nice vacation abroad. It’s a little out of my price range.”
“Yeah, me too, but luck would have it that my boss here doesn’t appreciate the best sport in the world. Can you believe he was about to pass up on two tickets offered to him?”
“Nooo.” The driver raised an eyebrow and glanced at Atlas in the rearview mirror. “Really?”
“What can I say? I grew up in Ireland. We don’t have American football.”
“But still.” The driver shook his head. “That’s like turning down the winning lottery ticket.”
“Well, for the record, I’m happy I went, and I’m especially happy that I brought Jolene with me. She’s among the few who know how to make a group of boring executives have fun. They thought she was hilarious.”
I frowned at him. “Did I embarrass you?”
“No. You did great.” His smile seemed genuine.
“So did you. You must be very important to those people, because it was as if they all gravitated toward you, but I guess that comes with being a Robertson.”
“What do you mean? People came to me to talk business, but they wanted to sit with you.”
