Raider Nation

Last weekend we took Quinn on his first airplane trip for a short, short weekend to Seattle to visit some old friends. It seemed like a good trip to take, especially since we will be plane bound to NYC for Thanksgiving and wanted the plane practice.

The trip was great and Q was a champ on the plane. We had received advice to take BART (SF’s excuse for a subway) to the airport, and therefore back home. We flew out of the Oakland Airport, which happens to live next to the Oakland Coliseum where the Oakland Raiders play.

On our way home Sunday everyone was exhausted. I was suffering from my first hangover in years and hadn’t slept well with all the nerves of Q’s first trip. We arrived in Oakland so tired and so ready to be home. After exiting the airport doors, we noticed a number of people in the telltale black and silver Raiders colors wandering around. I knew this might indicate something ominous, but I decided to firmly ignore the instinct. However, arriving at the BART station, it was clear my denial had to be denied. Who would think that a BART platform would be crowded on a Sunday afternoon? Not me and that is why I bought the cheap tickets for our hour and a half flight to Seattle rather than coughing up an extra hundred bucksto fly out of SFO (a mere 20 minutes from our house).

There were hundreds and hundreds of drunken Raider fans EVERYWHERE. The entire BART station was crawling with them. There were a few miserable travelers like us, suitcases in tow, but mostly, it was Raider Nation.

Quinn’s eyes were like saucers as he sucked the life out of his pacifier Maggie Simpson-style. We got to the platform and a group of fans descended. And actually, thank god for Quinn because Raider Nation was quite taken with him and demanded to know his name, his age and his football allegences. Weirdly, one of them said, “he looks like a Jets fan.” I looked up sharply because my family has had season tickets to the Jets for years and really are very big Jets fans. I said, “He is a Jets fan.” The Raider fan said, “I knew it. I can see it in his eyes.” His opened his eyes wide to demonstrate. After that odd exchange, the guy didn’t say another word to us, but everyone else started yelling at us to not ruin his life by making him a Jets fan. The husband smoothed things over by saying that since he’ll grow up in SF, he’ll likely become a Raiders fan regardless. Luckily that made them happy enough to continue their friendly interest in Quinn.

All the trains were coming slowly, and it felt like it would take a miracle with the crowds to imagine actually get ourselves inside a train, especially with all of our crap. Again I say, thank god for Quinn because for whatever reason, these drunken guys decided that Quinn needed to get on the train, and that it was their job to make it happen.

When the train finally came they announced they would “block” for us. They actually did not let anyone on the train until stroller, wheelies and Quinn’s parents where safely inside and settled. They yelled “Go Quinn!” when the doors opened and they “blocked" anyone else from entering as promised. I must admit, it was sort of sweet. Despite the fact that it took two and a half hours to get home, I am feeling like maybe we will consider becoming Raiders fans after all:)