Why The Super Bowl Made Me Cry

...and no, it wasn't entirely because of our phenomenal snack spread [Buzzfeed Tasty's Kimchi Queso and Pull-Apart Garlic Rolls, Reese's Peanut Butter Cookie Dough Dip, and an amazing Four Layer Dip] or Cam Newton's sad face at the end of the game or the thought of being a mere twenty minute drive away from Queen Bey.
It was this:
Though we all love to shake our heads and tsk tsk at how (literally) commercialized events and days like the Super Bowl have become or at how certain football players might be grade A jerks, and though we're all pretty cynical about the nature of sports and media and entertainment, I saw over and over again only people living their dreams. That made me all weepy.
Say what you want about the Half Time show (I loved it!), but you have to admit that Beyonce and Coldplay and Bruno Mars were having a helluva good time. They were having fun and doing what they loved, and I refuse to believe that there wasn't a moment in that performance they didn't look around, see the bright lights and the screaming fans, and feel absolute euphoria.

The football players, too. Their jobs are to play a game they've spent a lifetime practicing and loving. Win or lose, I believe that every player found incredible value in being on that field, surrounded by supporters and family and teammates and coaches. 
Heck, even all the Panthers and Broncos fans in that stadium yesterday. Imagine how many people were able to cross "attend the Super Bowl when my favorite team plays" off of their bucket lists. Given the hefty ticket price, I'd assume the number to be many. Or, think of a newbie on the advertising team at Toyota Prius or Doritos. How insanely cool must their Sunday evening have been?
I'm all giddy with joy when I sense that individuals are having a moment – the kind where you're all "holy FRICK is this real life?!" It's why I still tear up every time a SNL host announces "and live from New York, iiiiit's Saturday night!" Old sap. (This is why I can't watch sports movies. My tear ducts become FOUNTAINS.)

I want you to look a little harder and search for those manifestations of your own dreams, and to acknowledge them. It might be that you are belting out a ballad in front of tens of thousands of devoted fans (Adele, now is the time to fess up if you read my blog), or you've reached a new milestone in your marathon training, or your tiny baby shot you a megawatt gummy grin, or a flight confirmation email might've just popped up in your inbox. Maybe you're picking up the keys to a new apartment, or making a payment for a car you've bought for yourself, or are attending a photography class tonight, or are planning the wedding you've imagined since you were a kid. Or you've accepted a job offer, gained a new like on Instagram, or are down a dress size, or simply are snuggling the kitten you've always wanted.
Look around and find the traces and the roadsigns telling you, hey, you're on your way, my friend. Even though our dreams might be less showy than accepting an Oscar or competing in the Olympics, they are there and they are worth the grind and we're on our way, my friend.
What are your roadsigns? Let me weep tears of joy for you!
PS. Then again, I could be entirely too naive and Peyton Manning tossed his trophy aside for a Budweiser (!!!) and an unbelievable paycheck the second he got home and everything is corrupt and there's no hope left for the world, the end.