How many people can say their first professional football game was a Vikings/Packers match-up at Lambeau Field? I know one: Me! Last weekend, my husband and I proudly (and a little nervously) donned our purple No. 4 jerseys as our friends Sara and Mitch -- who live in Green Bay -- treated us to football, cheesehead style. Here's how it went down:

Noon: Mitch accessories his Rodgers jersey with a pair of yellow and green tennis shoes. "Seriously?" I ask. "It's a sickness," he answers.

12:30 p.m.: We arrive at Marty's Crab Shack for the pre-game buffet. The cashier turns to my husband and says, "It costs $30 more for Vikings fans." There's a moment of silence before we realize she's kidding.

1:31 p.m.: Mitch excuses himself to go the restroom ... and returns covered in green-and-yellow face paint.

2 p.m.: We wait for the game shuttle with a contingent of Chicago-area fans. "We should probably stay away from you," they say to my husband. "In case there's sniper fire."

2:32 p.m.: We're here! We join the throngs walking through the tail-gaters to historic Lambeau Field. At the entrance, a woman hands out Packers flags. "I suppose you don't want one?" she says to me.

"Oh, she'll take one," says Sara, "if she wants to stay at my house tonight."

2:47 p.m.: We find our seats in section 118, row 44. Across the field, someone holds up a sign that says, "We'll Never Forget You, Brent!"

3:05 p.m.: The Vikings run onto the field. Mass booing ensues.

3:07 p.m.: The Packers enter the field. A woman behind us says, "This is huge!""Larger than life," says the guy next to her.

3:12 p.m.: Fighter jets fly over my head as the national anthem comes to a close. Goosebumps.

3:21 p.m.: In one of the first plays, Vikings No. 23 and Packers No. 35 slap hands. "Awww!" I say. "Warm fuzzies!"

3:24 p.m.: There's some serious booing going on. "What's happening?" I ask. "Favre just came on the field for the first time," answers Mitch.

3:28 p.m.: We're sitting and standing so much that I feel like we're in church, and then I realize that for some people, we are.

3:42 p.m.: Touchdown for the Vikings. When I'm done screaming, Sara deadpans, "I don't like this side of you."

3:50 p.m.: I decide that since I'm doing a column about the game, nachos could technically be a write-off.

4:02 p.m.: Another touchdown for the Vikes. Sara says, "Do you have alternative plans for where you'll spend the night if you guys win?"

4:07 p.m.: The Vikings sack Aaron Rodgers. Again. I'm getting concerned for my safety.

4:10 p.m.: "Everyone move down," yells a guy at the end of our row. We're so tight now that Mitch and I are spooning.

5:01 p.m.: We return to our seats after a halftime nacho-run just in time to see the Vikes make another touchdown. "Buckle under pressure, Brett!" the girl behind me screams. "Buckle!"

5:20 p.m.: Now that the Packers have a touchdown, the G-Force -- what the Lambeau crowd calls itself -- is feverish. A deafening, "Go, Pack, Go!" reverberates around me.

5:56 p.m.: For the first time in our 9-year friendship, I see Mitch's molars as he screams for his team to "Turn down the suck!"

6:14 p.m.: At 38-26 and two minutes left in the game, Sara and Mitch start packing up. "But your team could still win!" I tell them. "Things happen!""No," Sara says. "It's over."

6:20 p.m." I link my arm with my hosts' as we weave through a crowd 71,000 people deep. "That was fantastic!" I say. "Same time next year?" There's a smile hidden in Sara's scowl. I'm sure of it.

Jennifer Koski is a freelance writer in Rochester. Her column appears Wednesdays. Send comments to news@postbulletin.com.

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