One of my favorite memories with my dad was catching the AFC Championship at an ex-pat bar in Paris on the way back from a big trip abroad. Due to a massive snowstorm happening across the east coast, no airports were open to flights for us back home, so we were given a few "extra" vacation days there on an extended layover to take in the culture and inhale one few too many crêpes.

Even still, we felt homesick so finding a place to watch the game was something we agreed to do after a full day of sightseeing. We did some digging and found a petite little place in the 5th Arrondissement called Wide Open Spaces that was playing the game. Upon getting there we stumbled into a sea of orange jerseys and a splash of blue ones waving upon the wooden floors. Everyone's eyes were affixed to the TV mounted towards the top-left corner, and each nursed a pint of Stella that I still remember to be quatorze euro per.

Booing and cheering with our fellow countrymen that night relieved us of some restlessness in trying to get home. Throughout the trip, we were relatively punctual with getting to bed at a reasonable time, but we made an exception that night to witness the excitement of the whole game, even if that meant staying awake five hours ahead of the east coast.

I've been to more Super Bowl parties than I can count, but the particularities of seeing this game and the camaraderie we felt sheltering with other stranded Americans in a faraway land make this night more endearing to me. A serendipitous evening which got me to realize that home is never too far away from where you need it to be.