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Romance at the Meadowlands

Is there a more romantic setting than the sprawling parking lot of the massive (8,400 acres) Meadowlands Sports Complex in East Rutherford, New Jersey? Especially on a big college-football game day, where 50,000 beer-infused fans crowd together to tailgate, pre-game, and celebrate like the end of the world was imminent? I think not.

Forty-four years ago Donna and I and some friends and relatives attended a Notre Dame-Navy game. Donna and I had met a few weeks before, when a mutual friend played matchmaker and brought us together in Washington, D.C., where I was living and working. Our friend, Monica, was trying to set me up with another of her friends, but Donna and I had an immediate attraction.

This was our first weekend together. I stayed at Donna’s parents’ house, where she was living. It was a big deal meeting the parents and siblings.

The next morning a big group of us headed to the old Giants Stadium in multiple cars and met up.

It was cold and very windy. I don’t remember much about the game (Notre Dame won 33-0, according to the Internet). Being young and carefree, after the game we all drove into the city and ended up at Rosy O’Grady’s, a restaurant and bar in midtown Manhattan. It was there Donna and I had our first kiss. In the back seat of the car on the drive back to Donna’s house there were a few more.

Last week we had an opportunity to revisit the blustery site of our first date, if that’s the correct term. Donna’s brother Larry and his wife Patricia had invited us to a game there – they had four tickets to a corporate box. And serendipitously, the game was Notre Dame vs. Navy. We jumped at the chance.

The hour-long drive from Larry and Patricia’s home in Milford, New Jersey, where they graciously (as always) hosted us, to the Meadowlands became more harrowing the closer to the sports complex we got. Larry expertly maneuvered through the helter-skelter of exit ramps, merging lanes, road construction, and a thousand twists and turns to get us to the parking lot about an hour prior to kickoff. Things then got really hairy. Ten lanes funneled to two. We had no idea where our designated parking area was or how to get to it. Thousands of fans were everywhere, oblivious or unconcerned about cars, buses (hundreds of buses!), and staff-driven golf carts all going in every direction. It was pandemonium in slow motion. Miraculously, and with great patience and prowess, Larry got us to a parking spot adjacent to a light pole with a location sign (G4) and not far from an entrance to MetLife Stadium.

Then there was another herding experience, while the approximate equivalent of the population of New York City had to squeeze into six lines to pass through metal detectors. About 80 percent of fans set off the highly sensitive machines multiple times, meaning one person got through every 20 minutes or so, or so it seemed.

At last we got in, found the box, met our contact, and were treated to a lavish spread of food and drink and had a grand view of the game (Notre Dame thumped Navy 44-14).

We left during the fourth quarter and had a far easier time reversing the process to get back to Larry and Patricia’s. Unlike 44 years ago, there was no necking in the back seat this time.

And that’s the beginning of our story together. I’m hoping we have many more chapters to write.








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