The story of when I took my dad to his first Dallas Cowboys Pro NFL game after spending 41 years in America as a die hard fan.
In the car, my sister reminded herself out loud to download Google Maps on her iPhone. Dad takes this opportunity to talk about how in the old days he used paper maps, the kind you buy in gas stations and fold into your vehicle glove box.
As I drove through the City of Dallas, he goes on about how he used to navigate the roads, how technology had changed things and how people don’t use pay phones any longer.
He was interrupted by the female Google voice on my iPhone, which was directing us towards our hotel in Farmers Branch, just twenty minutes from Dallas Love Field Airport.
Dad, who is a few years away from retirement, leaned in from the passenger side to get a little closer to my ear. After the Google Maps was finished with the announcement, Dad asked me if the Google lady talking to us was really guiding us from above.
I didn’t know how to respond.
Dad has been a Dallas Cowboys fan since 1975. He arrived in the United States 41 years ago. He fought in the Vietnam War alongside American soldiers against the North Communist Party. An avid fan living in Chicago Bears territory, he has never been to a professional football game, let alone a Cowboys game.
When I waited at his airport gate, he walked through the plane tunnel wearing an army colored looking backpack. He had the smile of young man and the energy of a college student. Wearing a white hat and a navy Cowboys polo shirt with a large star on his breast, we took a photograph together at the airport.
I sent the photo to my nineteen-year-old niece. She took note of his Nike shoes, which was similar to the style she owned. She said he had more swagger than I did and that I had worn old man shoes. I agreed.
Next: Taking Dad to his first Cowboys game continued