Maybe it’s me! I don’t know. It DID seem like all the other Romans in Section D of Tier Three were having a wonderful time! But, being my first time at the games, I just guess I wasn’t expecting that much blood… Oh Gaius! Gaius, you fool! Why did I listen to you? Of course, you’d think, “My brother-in-law is cool, he’s hip. If he won’t shut his mouth about this amazing show, I’ll love it too!” I puked in my own lap.
Now I could sit here all day and write a drawn out description of exactly what I saw, so I’ll do that. This one gladiator, who was very wide in the shoulders and who I would have no difficulty describing as a brute, fought a convicted criminal. He had an easy time breaking that miscreant’s neck, which gave the audience quite a rise, and I must admit, gave me a sensation similar to that of a butterfly’s flapping wings within my gut.
It was all for naught, though, because immediately after this happened, the poor savage was devoured by a very temperamental jaguar. How could this have happened to me? Just as I was becoming emotionally invested in this brave gladiator, he’s ripped from my life! This was a terrible injustice and one that I surely won’t get over in the near future.
In my fourteen years on this earth I have never, and I mean NEVER, come this close to walking out in the middle of a performance. Except, of course, for that one time my wife tried to make me sit through that piece of shit, Aida… what a nightmare. Four acts? Of opera? Really? I would have rather sat through watching a man get his limbs torn off by a horrifically unpredictable lion. Oh wait, I DID!
I tried talking to the gentleman at the box office afterwards, just to see if he would remedy the situation. I wasn’t asking for a refund, or anything like that, because I had sat through the whole show and I am not an unreasonable guy. But maybe some sort of voucher? A discount on future ticket purchases? But no. Nothing.
You know what? Looking back on it now, I think the customer service was truly what troubled me most about my experience at the Coliseum. It’s been a few weeks, and now that everything has sunk in, I can forget about all the screams and dying last gasps of breath coming from the gladiators. But the way in which that employee spoke to me?? I can’t… I just…
MY WIFE suggested I write a strongly-worded letter to one of those chumps in charge over there at the Coliseum. However, in this case, I thought I couldn’t be called unreasonable if I were to go over their heads and write directly to Caesar with my complaints. But, unfortunately, I’ve heard he’s terrible with his mail so… I’ll just list my grievances here:
1. Obviously, my main complaint has to do with the way in which I was spoken to. You would think that, having to deal with thousands of Romans on a weekly basis, you’d have some people skills. Not there. Not at the Coliseum. They employ only numbskulls it appears… and numbskulls with no people skills, at that.
2. Is there ANY way we could develop a sort of “family friendly” version of the games? Maybe with plastic swords or bobcats? Something less threatening. It’s terribly difficult to find a babysitter.
3. I know its just a small thing, but do you think there’s anything we can do about those seats?? They’re not even seats (more like long blocks of stone). Would it be too great of a stretch for them to provide us with cushions or backs to our seats? I mean, those tickets cost me an arm and a leg.*
4. A lot of blood on the ground between the aisles. No idea how it got there.
5. Public restrooms are usually nothing to write home about, but I was actually pleasantly surprised by how well-kept they were at the Coliseum. Restrooms: very clean. Me: very impressed.
That’s about it in a nutshell. If you don’t faint at the sight of blood and prefer your toilet seats not caked in excrement, the gladiator games may be for you!… but not for me. Fuck that shit.