The other night some girls we’d met texted us to see if we wanted to watch “The Game.” It was clear that we should know about “The Game” to which they were referring. We declined the invitation, very much needing a night at home. But we didn’t even need to turn on the TV to find out the score of the Haiti/El Salvador futbol match. The fireworks and screaming across the city were quite clear.
The boys on our team, who technically live in a different city, went out to dinner at a restaurant that was showing “The Game.” When they got home from the restaurant, they noticed that the guard station lacked a television. They made the guards night by filling him in on the score. They discussed the possibility of buying him a TV. He works such a long shift, and it must be excruciatingly boring. They vetoed the idea quickly, though, recognizing that the person they pay to protect them probably has no TV for a reason.
As the boys discussed the danger of a distracted guard, Lauren offered, “I lost all confidence in our guards when I heard them listening to Celine Dion.”
Yes, it’s true. The men at our front gate in uniforms, with giant guns slung across their shoulders, listen to Celine Dion.