As I traveled extensively in a former occupation, I have seen events to destroy men’s souls and psyches. One fall, I was in Houston, Texas, en route to a job on a Sunday morning, when I saw a man standing on the side of the road, waving a large, blue and red object. When I pulled closer, I could see that it was a foam finger for something called “The Houston Texans”. Naturally, my curiosity got the better of me and I pulled over to the shoulder to see what was the matter.

The man, slathered in blue and red paint and wearing a jersey bearing the name “Schaub” and a number 8, leaned into my window, and very politely said “Thank you so much for pulling over! I thought I was going to miss the game!”

Now, this seemed curious to me, as there was no “game” that day to my knowledge. However, there are many mysteries in this world, and I thought that I could assist this gentleman to whatever contest he was attempting to attend. I asked him his destination, and he looked at me aghast. “Reliant Stadium! The Texans and Titans kick off in 20 minutes!” Now I was truly confused. Who were these teams? What sport did he mean? What was a Reliant Stadium? Was it abnormally trustworthy? Would Cowboys be battling mythical pre-gods in this coliseum known for its reliability?

I was in too deep. I drove the man toward this “Reliant Stadium” and he filled my head with stories of the derring-do of mythical creatures such as “Arian Foster”, “Andre Johnson”, and the curious “Schaub” creature whose visage and raiment he had adopted as his own. When I pressed him as to why he had chosen the Schaub as his talisman, he remarked, “Because he kicks ass! He’s gonna win us a Super Bowl!”

Now I got it. The “Texans” and “Titans” were FOOTBALL TEAMS! How had I never encountered them before? Where had they been? My answers, it seemed, lie at Reliant Stadium.

As I entered the parking lot, my companion became silent. “Preparing himself mentally for the battle ahead” I reasoned. The lot was empty, but I assumed that the patrons were already inside. I turned to the passenger seat, and the man had DISAPPEARED! No trace of him, not a smear of blue or red greasepaint, remained to mark his presence. It was as if he had never existed!

I pulled to the front of the stadium, where a lonely security guard stood, sentry over a crowd of air. I beseeched him “Good sir! A man just disappeared from my vehicle, did you see him depart?” The guard, confused, replied “No sir, I just saw you pull up in this ratty old Windstar by yourself.”

Now, my fear made palpable in the vehicle, I demanded of him “You must have seen him, sir! He claimed to be a fan of these ‘Houston Texans’!”

“Well there, that’s where you’re wrong, mister,” replied the weary, saddened guard.” You see, NOBODY CARES ABOUT THE HOUSTON TEXANS!”