The Magnificent Wizard of Nonz, in all his greatness, has season passes to all Atlanta Falcons home games and friends that like to leave him hanging at the last possible minute. As a broke-ass Falcons fan, this was my perfect opening to finally see Mike Vick in action. Most of you would think that makes me the back-up friend, but here I am as a member of THE NONZ ALLIANCE, and his other friends are home wackin' it to old Randy Orton matches. So there.

Being the only person left able to go (which is in no way sad or pathetic), Nonz and I hop in his truck and head to the Georgia Dome. On the way we meet a perfect Harris County skank, and Nonz is so overwhelmed by her M&M's Darth Vader shirt he almost forgets to buy ice. After recovering nicely from the skank encounter, we get back on the road. I feel I am ready for the time of my life. YEAH, FALCONS !

Upon arriving at the Dome, I am quickly disillusioned. Although Nonz has a pass to get us thru all the traffic and mediocrity of the public parking areas, the lots are ragged and sparsely populated. No tits any where, just overweight and old hardcore Falcon fans. Nonz may have been in heaven, but I was disappointed. So we just sat there talking about all the skanks we wish we could see. Or would actually be there during a regular season game, to which I will have to hit one his other friends with a guitar ala the Honkey Tonk Man to be able to attend.

We finish eating our gut-grenades (Krystal's) and debating the flat tax, and head in. We get thru security with relative ease, and proceed into the rotten underbelly of the Dome. I don't know what was dripping from those pipes, but it smelled like ass - avoid at all costs. We are bombarded by free crap with so many different sponsors I thought I was at a Nascar race. The fan banner we got was ludicrous. The front still said Falcons, but the back no longer says defense. The Falcons turn the ball over, and we all hold up our " Eat Mor Chikin" signs. "YEAH, Falcons! Eat Mor Chikin!" WTF?

We head up the escalator, and Nonz being as graceful as the Ultimate Warrior on crack proceeds to trip over the last step, in the process losing his ticket. So we spend about ten minutes of Nonz rummaging thru various pockets and contraband. Another five minutes of him wondering if he could bullshit his way past the guards on our one remaining ticket. And probably thirty seconds of Nonz considering taking my ticket back and leaving me to die in the foyer. But in a classic 'Nonz has the best luck in the universe' moment, we find the ticket still hangin' around by the escalator. I'm saved.

As we head to our seats, we quickly realize it's going to be a problem all night. We're right on the end by the aisle, meaning we have to move and excuse ourselves all evening for the beered-up and small bladdered pissants sitting in the middle. We stood up and down so many times, folks thought we were trying to start a wave. In another 'Nonz has the worst luck in the universe' moment, he reveals he moved to these seats from the endzone because he couldn't see the whole game from there. Smooth move, ex-lax.

But there were high points to the evening. The cheerleaders were bad-ass, two drunk dudes kissed on the big screen, and I started the whole Dome barking for D.J. Shockley as he took the field (Nonz will corroborate). I completely kick ass! The Falcons still lost (probably because I was there), but all was not lost. We did get to see a hot chick who was so wasted she had to be wheel-chaired to her car. How she got so smashed on a thursday night pre-season game when beer sales stopped at half-time, I don't know. But it made all the moving for drunks, sewage drips, chickin posters, and the realization Nonz only took me to keep from wasting a ticket - all worth it.

Thanks, Nonz. I'm paying for your next Randy Orton PPV.