Spencer's still on walkabout, so that leaves us largely unsupervised and free to warn you about the five general categories of fan you should neither associate with nor emulate.
Humorless Bore's fault lies in his inability to lighten the hell up, but when that pendulum swings too far in the other direction, you get someone just as frustrating: the Andrew W.K. (Please note: in no way are we impugning the actual Andrew W.K. - this is simply a label used for ease of reference.) At first, the Andrew W.K. seems perfectly pleasant. He likes to drink, he's full of energy and excitement.
But you have ignored an important truth: the Andrew W.K. is not here for football at all. He's here to overdo it, and by it we mean everything. He is not a roller coaster, because roller coasters vary in speed and slope and angle. Whether he knows it or not, the Andrew W.K. is taking one of society's unwritten rules - namely, that adults will do things at a sporting event that might otherwise be a sign of mental illness and that's ok - and abusing it. Repeatedly.
The 37 year old man who spends far, far too much time devising a way to sneak pipettes full of Malibu into the stadium? An Andrew W.K. The forty-something woman who spends all game screaming about how the cops are assholes after that 37 year old man gets kicked out? An Andrew W.K. The three bros that are trying to start a Seven Nation Army chant? During a TV timeout? Without any prompting? All Andrew W.K.
This is a harder category to define than the Humorless Bore, because we are not here to tell you to just have X amount of fun and not X plus 1. We fully expect that you will spend at least one Saturday this year intoxicated and doing things that are, at best, attention-seeking and, at worst, infuriating to everyone around you. Our point is this. The Humorless Bore is awful because he destroys the collective net enjoyment football is supposed to generate. The Andrew W.K. is no less guilty of this crime simply because he brought beer.