One of the most disappointing things ever must be to paint your face to go to a game, and then have your team lose in soul crushing fashion. That has to be a really long walk back to the car when your grease paint is smeared, your wig is itchy, and you traveled 2000 miles to see your team come up short in an essentially meaningless football game. The fans of the other team are giving you shit, and yet you stoically walk back to the Ford Focus rental car with your beads rustling on your shirt.
The walk into the hotel can't be any easier. Obviously the plan can't be to knock back a couple Bud Lights in the lounge before going upstairs to clean up. You certainly can't relax with your "game face" on. You have to walk straight past the inviting open doors of the bar and past the reception desk, where inevitably the overweight woman manning the night shift will ask "Did y'all win your game?". He'll mutter "no", and she'll say "Oh! Too Bad!" way too cheerfully.
There will be an awkward pause as he shuffles back and forth waiting for the elevator to come to the ground floor. Maybe an elderly couple dressed in shabby Burlington Coat Factory dress clothes will uncomfortably look down at the floor and cough to avoid making eye contact and conversation as they wait for the same elevator. As the elevator doors open, several drunk guys in their twenties pile out talking way too loud, spot the face paint and remark "Good game Dude". The laughter of the guys will drown out only when the elevator doors slowly close.
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