We Bleed Orange
In an effort to apologize to B for the havoc I wreaked on Thursday night, I agreed to accompany him to the SU home-opener on Saturday morning. We were in Syracuse for the long weekend, and my dad wanted to show B how our city rolls. What better way than jumping head first into the start of football season and drunken debauchery?
The game started at noon, so we left for campus around 9:30. It’s like a ten minute drive to SU from my parents, leaving us plenty of time for some tailgating. My dad and his friend have season tickets for basketball, so he has his whole parking and pregaming routine down pat. We get to one of the hills at the bottom of campus and begin the trek to the quad. Obviously, we need some beers for such a journey. My dad pulls out a cooler and hands me and B a beer. On the open streets of Syracuse's east side. B is a little put-off by this, and while my dad is storing the plastic cooler and preparing a bag with ice for ourghetto cooler traveling cooler he asks me if this is for real.
The first time B met my dad was a trip to the baseball hall of fame, where my dad offered B a beer in the parking lot before hand. At 10 in the morning. So while this situation wasn’t totally new ground for B, he was still a little unaccustomed to my family’s history ofalcoholism partying.
I told him to stop being such a square and drink up. The sun was out in full effect, and the beer was necessary for the hike up the hill to the quad. The good thing about beer for breakfast is that any qualms you might have about it are out the window by the time your first drink is gone.
The closer we got to campus, the more festive the atmosphere. I had told B to pack some orange attire, but as usual, he ignored my advice. And as usual, it backfired on him. In a sea of orange and navy, B was the loner in the green shirt. At least he wasn’t wearing purple, which was the colors for rival Northwestern.
We hadn’t intended on going to the game. We would have been content with tailgating around campus, partaking in $6 hamburgers and seeing the cheerleaders and marching band fire everyone up in the quad.
But we got caught up in the excitement, and my dad wanted to show B the inside of the dome. So he found a scalper, finagled some deal that involved giving up one of our precious beers, and we had ourselves somenosebleed high rolling seats.
I’d usually rather gouge my eyes out than watch football, but I was totally into it. Until B and I saw kids with “Class of 2016” shirts. Those little punks don’t even realize how good they have it.
We didn’t stay for the whole game, so as we were leaving, my dad found a guy lingering around one of the gates and asked him if he wanted our tickets. He thanked us and said his nephews would really appreciate it. As we were leaving we heard “Who needs tickets? I got ‘em cheap, only $15.” It’s entrepreneurial minds like his that make Syracuse the great city it is.
The game started at noon, so we left for campus around 9:30. It’s like a ten minute drive to SU from my parents, leaving us plenty of time for some tailgating. My dad and his friend have season tickets for basketball, so he has his whole parking and pregaming routine down pat. We get to one of the hills at the bottom of campus and begin the trek to the quad. Obviously, we need some beers for such a journey. My dad pulls out a cooler and hands me and B a beer. On the open streets of Syracuse's east side. B is a little put-off by this, and while my dad is storing the plastic cooler and preparing a bag with ice for our
The first time B met my dad was a trip to the baseball hall of fame, where my dad offered B a beer in the parking lot before hand. At 10 in the morning. So while this situation wasn’t totally new ground for B, he was still a little unaccustomed to my family’s history of
I told him to stop being such a square and drink up. The sun was out in full effect, and the beer was necessary for the hike up the hill to the quad. The good thing about beer for breakfast is that any qualms you might have about it are out the window by the time your first drink is gone.
The closer we got to campus, the more festive the atmosphere. I had told B to pack some orange attire, but as usual, he ignored my advice. And as usual, it backfired on him. In a sea of orange and navy, B was the loner in the green shirt. At least he wasn’t wearing purple, which was the colors for rival Northwestern.
We hadn’t intended on going to the game. We would have been content with tailgating around campus, partaking in $6 hamburgers and seeing the cheerleaders and marching band fire everyone up in the quad.
But we got caught up in the excitement, and my dad wanted to show B the inside of the dome. So he found a scalper, finagled some deal that involved giving up one of our precious beers, and we had ourselves some
I’d usually rather gouge my eyes out than watch football, but I was totally into it. Until B and I saw kids with “Class of 2016” shirts. Those little punks don’t even realize how good they have it.
We didn’t stay for the whole game, so as we were leaving, my dad found a guy lingering around one of the gates and asked him if he wanted our tickets. He thanked us and said his nephews would really appreciate it. As we were leaving we heard “Who needs tickets? I got ‘em cheap, only $15.” It’s entrepreneurial minds like his that make Syracuse the great city it is.
Comments
And we only lost by 1 point! That's what really hurts.
@Brent: The open container policy is whatever we want it to be ; )