Super Bowl marketing has always made a lasting impression on the American public. Over the years the Budweiser frogs have came and went, Coke and Pepsi have battled it out, and most recently we have been asked, what is mlife? (What is mlife anyway?) But one ad that caught my eye most this year most was for the P'Zone: a calzone-style pizza that you eat like a sandwich.
That's right. The general public couldn't quite handle the "calzone" in the major market, so luckily Pizza Hut brought us the P'Zone. "It's all marketing," says Andy "Cooter" Valen.
Like many of us here at Tufts, I spent Super Bowl Sunday with a bunch of friends. I gathered with a houseful of Tufts Ultimate players in a house off campus, and as usual, us E-Men had a good time. And, like the rest of you, we enjoyed the commercials just as much as the football.
E-trade commercials came and went, Britney Spears caught our attention a bit, and it seemed like lots of monkeys ran across the screen. But the P'Zone really got us going. We were all hysterical during the commercial, and afterwards it seemed like people were just blurting out "P'Zone" for the fun of it all over the place. Ideas about naming one of our defensive sets after the P'Zone came up, but mostly people just said it when they could. When exchanging currency recently, Nick "e-mail" Novelli was heard to have wanted to trade his "Sacaja-P'Zone" in for a paper dollar.
After weeks of making fun of the "calzone-style pizza," one of us finally tried to order one. On a weekend trip to visit his girlfriend in Binghamton, Cooter ordered a P'Zone for the two of them. But it wasn't meant to be _ the delivery guy brought two pizzas and his girlfriend helplessly accepted them. No P'Zone.
And then came poker night this weekend. About a dozen of us were at a house playing cards, and the idea of ordering food came up. Someone grabbed the phone to dial Espresso's, but Ariel "Mickey Marbles" Santos spoke up just in time. Tonight would be the night of the P'Zone _ a P'Zone party if you will. Mickey grabbed the phone book and soon enough was on the horn to Pizza Hut. After inquiring about any P'Zone specials, Mickey was told that we could get 2 P'Zones for $10.99, and among the styles were pepperoni, classic, and meaty. Placing a safe bet, he ordered a pepperoni and a classic. Little did we know what awaited us.
After the excitement of the order, card-playing resumed. An hour had passed, and just as cards were being shown during a big-money round, the door bell rang. We practically all screamed "P'Zone!" at once.
A couple freshmen ran down to get the food, and we decided not to open the boxes until after the hand, so as to give the deserving attention to the much-awaited P'Zones. When the hand was over, the boxes were opened, and the result did not please the dozen hungry E-Men. Contrary to the images we had seen on the TV, the P'Zones looked small and greasy.
"What?! Fish in the P'Zone?!" Unbelievable. The first bite into the "classic" P'Zone revealed that "classic" meant anchovies. So the classic was a wash, only Mike "Verbal" Bright was able to brave the stink and eat some of it. The pepperoni P'Zone, although slightly less offensive, was also a disappointment. It was oily, smaller than advertised, and extremely salty. Everyone was let down, and we all hopelessly gave one or two dollars to cover the cost.
The glory of the "P'Zone" was simply not meant to be. When Pizza Hut hesitated at bringing us a calzone by inventing the P'Zone, they had the right hunch _ the calzone is not meant for a large pizza chain. We were left with two "calzone-style pizza" boxes half-filled with food, and about twelve hungry E-Men. So, let this be your warning: "P'Zone" may be fun to say _ even shout _ but it tastes awful. The next time you're in the mood for a P'Zone, call Nick Novelli and ask him to yell it for you a few times. You'll be glad you did. Because it's not a pizza, and it's certainly not a calzone. It is a calzone-style pizza that you eat like a sandwich.
