A few days ago, I read an article about Pitcairn in last month's Vanity Fair. Pitcairn, for those unfamilar, was the island settled by the mutineers from the H.M.S. Bounty in the late 1700s.

Well, there was almost another mutiny on the high seas last night.

After watching the Patriots march their way into the Super Bowl, I sat back for the start of the Packers-Giants game. The captain had made an announcement that the game would be available in the ship's four bars and casino, as well as in all staterooms.

That was a lie.

At game time, the promised channel was instead showing coverage of the women's Australian Open. And people were not happy about it. I have never seen such vitriol from so many grown men at once (as well as hearty pouting and glaring from at least one grown woman). A guy at the bar in an Eli Manning jersey looked so angry that had someone come along and taken his blood pressure, they would have immediately checked him into a medical facility.

Apparently, they were unable to get the game on the television due to "satellite issues." But finally, with 2:30 remaining in the second quarter, the tennis flickered off the screen and football at long last appeared.

Now, given how the game ended, would I rather have not been able to watch at all? That is a fine question. Without doubt, watching the fourth quarter and overtime took at least a year off my life.

But, given my history of semi-unhealthy, irresponsible behavior, what would I really be doing during that year beside sitting in a chair, trying to remember the days of yore and watching the Young and the Restless and Price is Right?