|A Footie-Adventure |
or: An Evening with Sean Bean...
Oh noooo. Well, I didn’t know then, what I do know now - that fate had struck. And, like it is with these fateful moments, I still tried to escape - with all might. It was just too silly. It was certainly too late - the announcement had been on the internet, for all to read, since at least three weeks already - and - this was about football - in Sheffield. in the North of England, home of Sean Bean and - Sheffield United. Also known as “The Blades”. (Of course, I could ask Evi. I always ask Evi, when I have a ... unique idea. Only Evi is crazy enough to fly to Madrid for an afternoon just to see a movie, a screening of “Alatriste”, Viggo Mortensen’s Spanish adventure film)
But no. Some things you just don’t do. I won’t go. After two hours, I had completely convinced myself about this - and left the bathtub.
I don’t know how it happened, that 5 minutes later I found myself in front of the laptop - writing an e-mail to Evi, about this:
Well, I am a nice girl - so I took the time to explain to Evi, what should have been already known to her - had she but followed the news about Sean - but she had been too busy in another Web-Universe: “An Evening with Sean Bean on Saturday, 14th of November” had been the announcement on a small ad posted on “Blades Mad”, an unofficial Sheffield United fan-forum.
Evi told me: “Let it go” - so, I wrote an e-mail to the provided e-mail-adress, asking for tickets.
After that, there happened - just nothing.
I finally got the phone numbers and called myself. First number - no connection. Second number: "Hi this is Steve." From then on I was mainly guessing what he was saying - Sheffieldish on the phone is a difficult task to understand when you don't have a clue with whom you are speaking. He told me they still had regular tickets left and some VIP ones. I asked for two VIP tickets, and told him that I'm calling from Munich, Germany.
And how could I pay for them. No credit card option, checks from Germany to the UK have way too high fees, so we settled on sending cash. A quick phone call to Renate, that we get tickets, so she made the arrangements for the flights and on my suggestion for a hotel as close to the location as possible. We ended up in the Copthorne hotel (extra late check-out and free drinks), two doors down from the Stadiums Platinum Suite.
Now the waiting for the entry tickets began. I didn't had anything but a postal address and a name that didn't ring a bell for me. So one week later (you never know how slow the postal systems work) I called again and asked if my money has arrived. Steve told me that he had mailed the tickets the other day, and if I could call again when they have arrived. 1 week gone by - nothing. I was biting my fingers, fearing that they got lost. 8 days - 9 days - finally on day 10 a nondescriptive envelope was in my mailbox.
I called Steve to tell him that the tickets were here, and he told me that 'a lot of folks from Germany' would be there, and if we would want to sit at their table. I said no, because we know each other already. And it would be way more interesting to meet new people. A good decision, as we found out later.
Now, of course, we had nothing better to do, than to think long and intensive about the appropriate clothes for such an important, perhaps life-changing event! Unfortunately, during the waiting time Renate was sick with some kind of virus (I told her that was no virus, but the reaction on Maximilian Brückner, a gorgeous Bavarian actor we had seen on stage from 1st row, where he blew us off), but she was in her doctor's hands for a week, and then I caught a nasty flew with high fever and coughing which tore me down for almost two weeks. So we decided against wearing Bavarian dresses, but instead something more skin covering.
Fast forwarding to Saturday morning, November 14, flight to Manchester. Train ride to Sheffield, counting on the way 15 football fields, 2 supermarkets from a German chain and 1 mosque. Taxi to the hotel. It began to drizzle, but we wanted to see the stadium. It began to rain with gusty winds, but we still made our round, and ended in the SU fan store, marveling at the goodies.
And then we saw the first sign that the evening would really happen: The entrance door of "The Platinum Suite" and behind the windows waiters busily moving huge round tables and covering them with white clothes. Steve had added a letter to the envelope with the tickets in which he wrote that we should be at the entrance at 6:45 pm in order to be there prior to Sean. So we decided that we would be there at 6:30 pm just in case ...
Entrance to the Platinum Suite is to the left
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