There was absolutely no traffic. That was the first clue this was going to be a strange experience. It was like that tiny window on Sunday mornings where everything in the city is quiet, except this was Sunday night, and I was about to attend a pro sporting event, where everything should have been loud and chaotic.
The parking deck was nearly empty. I pulled right up—no lines—gave my name to the attendant, and grabbed a spot near the front. There were no flags waving, no music playing, no smells of sausages grilling, and no kids kicking a ball around.