Now, you find your seat. It’s a thin, metal bench that has felt the weight of a million butt-cheeks and a few Super Bowl hangovers. Here’s the golden rule: do not kick the seat in front of you. Seriously. It’s a level-three offense, right up there with spilling beer on a grandma. The person in front of you has paid good money to watch a game, not to have their spine realigned by your restless toddler-sized feet.
If you need to stretch, stand up during time-outs. If you have to leave mid-play, crawl. No, really, crawl low and whisper “excuse me” like you’re apologizing to a baby. The locals will respect your humility—and they might even buy you a hot dog later.
