Toasted, red skin

I don't know why I expected something reserved, respectful, and quiet, but the tailgate atmosphere at the Hall of Fame really threw me for a loop. I didn't even think to bring a hat to use while sitting in the blazing sun inside the stadium, so I was forced to buy a souvenir to prevent nasal blistering. It felt like 20,000 people were there, and maybe six of them weren't Redskins fans.
We bought a tray full of crappy stadium food to eat before the stands got full, and then Ainsley and I took turns taking one of the kids down into the concourse just to keep them entertained with something other than a filling stadium. As it was, I was down under with Erin when everyone decided it was time to file in, using a gangway the width of a refrigerator. Erin started crying, being cramped in a loud, sweaty line* that wasn't moving, so I tried putting my mouth right up to her ear and gently singing "Hail to the Redskins", and Holy Mr. Rogers if that didn't soothe her.
*generous term. I've seen six-year-old soccer games that were more orderly.
We missed the National Anthem and the Army helicopter fly-over, but eventually made it up to see the introductions of the six enshrinees -- the biggest applause, naturally, for Darrell Green and Art Monk. And big boos for any former Cowboys announced. Poor Tony Dorsett.
The organizers wisely put Green and Monk 4th and last, respectively, as the stadium would have emptied if they'd gone any earlier. But Erin was done, zonked out asleep in Mama's sling at 8:45, and with two more speakers to go and the prospect of waiting in long shuttle bus lines and parking lot traffic jams, we decided to head to the next portion of our adventure.
After stopping for a veggie burger. See 'crap' line from above.