A friend of mine is in town (same friend we stayed with in NYC), so last night, we went out down by campus. I haven’t done that on a night before a game since I was IN college, which was several years ago, but, it was a special night so I was all for it.
I was totally prepared for the drunken stick figure sorority girls with bleach blonde hair crying on the stairs of The Swamp. I was prepared for the drunken 18-year-old frat guys spilling cheap beer on my (awesome) shoes. And, I was prepared to have to shove my way through a mass of people, the likes of which normally make me feel clausterphobic. What I was not prepared for was the staff.
First, as I go down to the ladies room (where some girl was playing Bathroom Nazi — if you didn’t leap into a stall the second someone flushed, she would scream “Come ON, ladies! Let’s move it!” I had a horrible volleyball flashback — kind of my ‘Nam), I was about to step in line when this ENORMOUS bouncer type takes two hands and shoves me back. Seriously. Another bouncer type was next to him and obviously saw the rage bubbling up inside me, which was held back just until my utter disbelief melted away, and apologized, explaining that a waitress was coming through. I calmly explained to him that, in some cultures, words are used before large men shove women in high heels. There might have been a series of F-bombs in there. I can’t be sure.
Before I even made it back to my table, I was standing near a chair, minding my own business, when this waitress — she must have been 5 feet tall carrying a tray that was 6 feet wide — came up to me, looked me in the eye, and, in the voice of Lucifer, screamed, “MOOOOVE!.” Seriously?
I started to respond, because I was more angry than I can even type, and another girl there tried to explain to me that she had been a waitress there before, and “Excuse me” just doesn’t really cut it. And, it was then that I realized that I’m old and cranky and this shit is best left to 18 year olds who don’t know how to kickbox. Because if I hadn’t been wearing a dress and hot shoes, someone might have gone home with a serious injury.
Oh, and also? My head is POUNDING today, because the only way Jared knew to keep me from going on a bloody rampage was to keep bringing me beer. And in a couple of hours, it’ll be time to start tailgating. If you’re out there, and you see a girl in an orange dress sitting down, yelling at all the young people to get off her damn lawn, come on over and say hello, because that’ll definitely be me.