Let Me Tell You About Texas Winters and the Big Game

So the Super Bowl is this weekend, in case you hadn't heard.  It's being held at Cowboys Stadium in Arlington, Texas, the home of the Dallas Cowboys, who made it their mission early in the NFL season to accept nothing less than watching the game from a luxury suite.  Mission accomplished, 'Boys.  Have a canape.

In case you also haven't heard, an ice storm blew through North Texas this week, leaving the streets encased in a couple of inches of solid ice.  Then temperatures plunged into the teens and stayed there.  Did you know that North Texas has no salt trucks, and nobody has snow tires, and even the non-natives who moved here from colder climates can't drive on streets that are covered with ice?  So as thousands of media representatives, celebrities, and fans from two of the coldest cities in the United States descended on our fair Metroplex - probably with suitcases full of Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, because hey it's Texas - the schools were closed, the trains weren't running, and everybody who hadn't come from out of town for the festivities was stuck at home, watching the stuff that hadn't been canceled on TV.

Good times.

Then, on Thursday night, the temperature rose slightly - just enough to allow six inches of fluffy, puffy snow to drift up on top of the ice (which still hadn't melted) by Friday morning.  So pretty, and so much fun for the kids who were now on Snow Day #4, not to mention their parents, who had been working from home all week and slowly but surely depleting their liquor supplies.  But enough about me.

If you're Jerry Jones, Cowboys owner - in which capacity he's been taking it easy this week - and Super Bowl host - in which capacity this is the biggest freaking week of his life - then I imagine you've been gritting your teeth as much as the Botox will allow for the last several days.  You've probably been wondering out loud how much goddamn money a fella has to have to control the weather in North Texas.  (Looks like the answer is about a buck-fifty more than Jerry Jones has.)  You've been having to apologize to the likes of Diddy and Snoop and Shannon Tweed for not providing a more hospitable climate, and that must chap your hide, because to you these folks look like they should be bringing you beer at the country club.  (Jerry doesn't always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers it be brought to him by people who know their place.)

But hey, the Super Bowl is the Super Bowl, and no amount of ice and snow and frozen cheeseheads can stop the Big Game.  The ads have been sold, the $10 pretzels are salted, and look, the temps are on the rise.  The ice and snow are melting - hooray!

Unfortunately, this afternoon a crapload of the ice and snow slid off the roof of Cowboys Stadium in the act of melting and sent six people to the hospital.  Seriously.  They're all going to be OK, which means that this incident is not a terrible tragedy but instead the most hilarious damn thing in the world.  Jerry's own House of Material Excess has turned on him and is now attacking its patrons.  That really is awesome, when you think about it.

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Jerry Jones is not a practicing Buddhist, so I don't know how much creedence he gives to the idea of karma.  Not much, most likely.  If he can't understand the consequences of hiring Wade Phillips (or Chan Gailey, or Barry Switzer, or Bill Parcells), then it's a safe bet he doesn't see any of this week's bizarreness in terms of cosmic justice.  Far be it from me to suggest that some things are bigger than his bank account.  I mean, besides his ego.  I'm not about the negative vibes, even if they're negative in a really, really funny way. 

Me, I'm just thrilled that the Packers are in the Super Bowl this year.  Go Pack!  And ice or no ice, I'm going to be sitting in front of the TV on Sunday like everyone else, rooting for the E*Trade baby.