Reason #5,919 why I'm going to miss the Coliseum (Take II)

I went to the game on Saturday (my third game of the week) with three friends, one of whom is a Devils fan, and a generally arrogant guy who the rest of us rip on to keep him grounded.

Anyway, we're standing in line waiting to get in, and I'm in the front of our group, so I am the first to be 'wanded' by Coliseum security. I get the call from a nice woman in that familiar yellow jacket to put my arms out and prepare for wanding, and as she begins to check me for anything dangerous, I quietly started the following conversation, making sure my friends could not hear me.

Me: "Hi, how are you?"

Her: "Good, how are you?"

Me: "Pretty good. Hey, can you do me the biggest favor?"

Her: "What's that?"

Me: "Can you please give my friend in the Devils jersey a really hard time?"

Her: (A slight pause, then) "Where is he?"

Me: "He's behind me. You'll see the red jersey."

Her: "Done." and then a bit louder "You're good. Enjoy the game."

Me: "Thank you, have a good night."

I couldn't believe that this was about to happen, and I was smiling from ear to ear when the friend in between myself and the Devils fan got through security quite quickly. I told him what I had arranged and we both turned around to see the show.

Our Devils fan friend reached my friend the security representative, who proceeded to have the Devils fan completely empty his pockets, spin around twice, and wand him much more thoroughly than anyone else entering the building last night. As this continued on, my spectating friend and I were laughing harder and harder, mostly because our Devils fan friend was getting angrier and angrier.

By the time it was over and he was allowed through, his face was as red as that ugly jersey he was wearing. He tried to tell me about how ridiculous that whole procedure was, but I couldn't respond or even process what he had said because I was still laughing very hard. My friend who enjoyed the event with me explained that I caused my Devils fan friend's hardship, and he wound up to punch me but instead cursed me out, which didn't matter because I was still delirious from what had happened.

As I pulled myself together, I looked back to my accomplice in the yellow jacket, and she was waiting with a smile and a nod. I wish I had gotten her name, or had a gift or reward for her fine service, but that nod was enough. I returned the gesture and turned to head into the Coliseum, our victimized Devils fan still going on about the absurdity of his security check.

I don't think that situation would have unfolded so perfectly at the Barclays Center, or anywhere else in the universe.

I'm really going to miss the old place.

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