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ORCHARD PARK, NY — For the home-grown New York Jets fans concentrated across the Empire State, a trip to their divisional and cross-state rivals, the Buffalo Bills, involves a mundane and often lengthy commute across forest-rich, upstate New York.

However, for the avid Canadian fan located in Montreal, the prospect of viewing a duel between these two teams offers a far more exciting and revered rite of passage: the roadtrip.  

This is where I found myself this past weekend, loaded up in a Chevy Cruze with friends, making our way across Southern Ontario and down into the land of opportunity to see the Jets take on the Bills in an implication-rich match-up at Ralph Wilson Stadium, located in Orchard Park just outside of Buffalo.

Leaving Saturday afternoon and spending the night in Toronto, I hopped across the border Sunday morning to catch the waning end of the famed NFL tailgate.  And despite some questionable navigation and a border officer convinced my friends and I were working for a Mexican drug cartel, we managed to reach the stadium just in time to crack a cold one and make it to our seats for the opening kickoff.

This was the first time I had been to an NFL game, and the scene that first struck me, as I walked through the tunnel and down to the seats, will remain with me indefinitely.  Thousands of supporters clad in blue and white jerseys, with a healthy number of the green Jets faithful mixed in, lined the field and were cheering deafeningly from the start of the action. This initial mind-blowing atmosphere only died down a bit over the entirety of the action, even as the Jets sealed the victory, much to the chagrin of the home-town crowd.

Due partly, I’m sure, to the fact that the Buffalo Bills have failed to factor into the playoff scene in the AFC since 1999, the two teams have never truly formed a heated loathing, unlike with those despicable Patriots. The clashing sides of the crowd ribbed almost entirely in good nature with each other up to the final whistle, which served only to cement a resoundingly positive feeling. We gleefully walked back to our car to a chorus of “Sanchez sucks.”

For those considering making a trip down south to catch an NFL game, Buffalo offers a strong market for consideration. The trip is easily managed in a day, clocking in at about six and a half hours, and the ticket prices are incredibly cheap relative to other NFL teams. Whereas in other stadiums of similar distance, such as New York or even Boston, which have soaring ticket prices for sub-par seats, in Buffalo we sat 20 rows back off a corner of the endzone for $55 face value.  You’ll just have to put up with the persistent buzzing of their signature chant, “Let’s go Buffalo.”