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Best places to ‘get dome’ in the Dome

Sports Staff

Now that the Edward Jones Dome is down, it’s up to us to come up with alternative uses for this lonely building. If you manage to sneak past security with your main squeeze, here are the best places get down and dirty on the artificial turf.

Inside a monster truck left behind after Monster Jam

Sports Illustrated readers may have voted the Jones Dome as the worst place to watch football back in 2008, but 10-10 experts would call it the only place to watch the Monster Jam truck bonanza in the Greater St. Louis metropolitan area. I went to such a jam at the dawn of the millennium, and the experience continues to influence my sexuality in ways that would make Freud bust a wiener schnitzel. The dirt, the destruction, the sound of 66-inch diameter tires supporting 9,000 pounds of cantilevers, nitrogen shock absorbers and full tubular chassis…my chest tightens at the thought. I don’t have any proof that the Jones Dome houses any monster trucks during the off-season, but what I do have is faith—I just read “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrne, so I know, without a shred of doubt, that somewhere deep within the belly of the stadium lies a monster truck ripe for driving you and your partner to pound town. The interiors of monster trucks are rife with steel trusses and live wires, which only serve to boost the romantic ambiance already established by the giant image of a demon skull airbrushed on the exterior frame. Monster trucks are capable of making 360-degree backflips, so you and your partner are undoubtedly going to engage in some sexual theatrics so daring you’ll forget that the NFL expected St. Louis County taxpayers to support a billion-dollar stadium replacement for a team so permanently soaked in the marinade of 8-8 mediocrity. Bonus points if you recreate the “Titanic” steamy car window scene on the shockproof Plexiglas windshield. —Becca Christman

The Doggie (Style) Diner

Originally known for its array of overpriced snacks and drinks, the Doggie Diner now has a new claim to fame as the premier location for doggy style on this side of the Mississippi River. If you really want to show your partner “The Greatest Show on Turf,” take them to the Doggie Diner, complete with smelly, fly-infested Rams jerseys and cheerleader uniforms for your role-playing needs. While the stench of moldy, frozen hot dogs may be off-putting, look on the bright side: Each of you now has a new, rock-hard sex toy to enjoy. Most importantly, you’ll have a chance to pay homage to former Rams legends, like running back Marshall Faulk, as you scream “Faulk me!” at a higher decibel than anything ever heard during a Rams game. —Nick Kauzlarich

That random stretch of cement where the end zone used to be

Not since the halcyon “Greatest Show on Turf” days of Kurt Warner and company have the Rams reached the end zone with any frequency in the Jones Dome. Now’s your chance to do what the blue and gold have been unable to do for more than a decade: score in the Dome. Specifically in that forgotten segment of the arena’s cement floor where the carpeted end zone used to unfurl. Pick your spot, get started and rejoice, for there are no officials left to flag you for an excessive celebration penalty or a uniform violation. —Zach Kram

On the Jumbotron

Picture it. Standing erect on the 50-yard line, buttocks taut as the extensive video infrastructure captures you and your partner from every angle, broadcasting it on one of the biggest screens in the St. Louis metro area. Feeling even more adventurous? The Dome has the capacity for more than 66,000 onlookers. After all, there isn’t much else to do now that the Rams are gone. - Aaron Brezel

The nosebleeds where you sat when your freshman floor went to a Rams game

You were awkward. Your palms were sweaty, knees weak and your arms were heavy. There’s pesto on your sweater already, it’s from Bear’s Den spaghetti. You were a freshman; you were out of your mind terrified and said yes to everything out of sheer panic. You didn’t even like football. The nosebleeds your Residential College director subsidized for your dorm’s monthly outing were so high up you couldn’t even smell that guy from your floor who holed up in his room 14 hours a day playing League of Legends. On that fateful night, you, your two suitemates who you liked, your roommate who you hated and that group that was always talking about some place called “Harry’s” trailed behind your resident adviser and hot Washington University Student Associate like tiny ducklings toward an evening of awkward small talk, forced cheering and gratuitous discussions about the last General Chemistry exam. You probably forgot any of this happened until now, but everyone knows that the best sexual fantasies stem from repressed memories. Here’s to hoping your high altitude hump-a-thon is shared with that hottie from your floor that hasn’t seen you since you grew out your bangs sophomore year. —Becca Christman