Gameday Experience Part I.

I think I spent the night on Eric Schneider’s couch after Chapter fraté activities last night. Pretending to be interested in golf!

It is dark other places in the world, but here, cars line University Ave. The goal line club at Williams arena has a porta potty. The PPP (price per piss, a new, but developing index) is $71.

Throngs and throngs of people at Oak and University. “Boo,” (but welcome to Minnesota). Horse shit on the street; cavalry policy patrol is out.

We get a golf-cart ride from an old roommate. Describe this to me. “Madness on a cart,” Skeet says. Definitely collegiate logic: riding a cart, slower than walking speed, with six people just because we can. We trample some senior citizens the carts were designed for. Nobody pays much attention.

Goldy is on a Segway scooter. We pass a bottle of Windsor, a shooter, around the group. (Goldy receives none). We’ve made our way to the tailgating lots. Recycling bags. (They’ve thought of everything) just more shitty job security for Landcare. We are chasing the Windsor with a beer. Describe this to me. “A tame experience?”

We trade a hotdog for a pull of Windsor. Well worth the price.

“I woke up, thought, “God, I’m fucked up.” My life hurts. “If my feces could breathe it would be a .25.” These are not my quotes. 10:51 BlackBerry time, which means it could really be any time. You set the time yourself. Mind games, those BBs.

A quote from this fine sir, appearing approachable. “Brewster’s in trouble if they lose.”

“The defense will show.” “Gophs by 21.”

“Go home and hibernate.” Is the guy talking to me or what the Gopher’s will have to do it they lose? Am I out of context?

“Did anyone talk to you about underwear today?” This man is lewd, yet personable in some way as an underwear hawk. An independent contractor, so I cannot talk him down in price. His name is John, who is selling undies for gamedayundies.com.

We discuss an artist, and I cannot remember who it is. “His best album yet.” Queen is blaring in the car. I don’t know how I get in a car after already being at the game. No, it is a parked car. Things are getting out of hand as we’re talking about the overrated “ness” of middle management. At 11:03 fireworks erupt.

This interrupts our social with some corporate lawyers in the tailgating lot, which is interrupted again by a Cal fan. “Go Bears.”

“The Gophers are tremendous,” a PTS man says. We’re walking to the stadium now.

Why are there so many Cal fans here? A Berkeley wave of fraté blue and gold polos.

California is going to break off from the rest of the United States in ten years, anyways. So we really don’t care that Jahavid Best just scored. Again. Halftime score is 21-14 Cal. The band is on, the pride of MN. “It’s halftime at TCF Stadium.” Thank you, Voice.

We are sitting in 220, row 12. Seats 1&2.

I see some lovely Kappas that bring up some good memories. I would marry one, sure. Someone clarifies: “For a six month stint.”