A sleepless European, a 12:30 AM kickoff, endless commercials, and a few dangerously good cocktails—welcome to my Super Bowl night. I rooted for Philly, ranted about ads, marveled at how little the “ball in play” actually is, and still somehow survived until morning. Curious how rugby, foie gras, and Old Fashioneds all collide in this tale? Click in and find out.
