My friends and I were competing to see who would take the longest to earn their first degree while at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. Some of us hadn’t completed four years yet so these were simply biding their time, but my buddy Robert was midway through five and a half years with many credits still to go while I was approaching my seventh year, working two jobs and going to summer school to boot.
The competition was more jaded than celebratory. Why so long? In my case, I transferred from a small, private school as a sophomore, made the mistake of pledging a fraternity, partied my damn ass off virtually the whole time I wasn’t working, and had switched majors from Business to English after about three years, requiring me to essentially start over since so many GE requirements were different.
That’s the backstory – here’s the present story. We were all big UT sports fans, or in some cases, some just liked to go to games with the others for the atmosphere and partying. We got to as many home football and basketball games as possible, but since we were scattered around town, this always required at least one of us to rent an apartment very near campus within walking distance of the venues.
This year it was Robert’s turn and he’d rented an apartment on a hill within a direct line of sight of Neyland Stadium, home of the vaunted Big Orange football team. It was technically within walking distance but really that was while you were still sober, which was a rarity on game days. One of the bigger home games we’d been looking forward to this season was when big, bad conference powerhouse and rival, LSU, came to town, which was going to take place at the odd Saturday kickoff time of noon rather than the usual night game.
What that meant was on LSU gameday, after we had camped out for student tickets, those of us going together gathered at Robert’s apartment to begin preparations. Which for SEC football means “tailgating,” or more simply put “binge drinking.” Karen had established a tradition long ago for noon football game days – Bloody Mary Breakfast! And Karen was a dedicated alcoholic, so to both end our hangovers from the night before and to get the party started in anticipation of the game, we wandered into and around Robert’s apartment at the unholy hour of 9 AM to begin the process of BMB, for which Karen required she adorn her cocktail with two celery stalks. We each had our own additional vices too. Robert was married to large bottles of Absolut vodka, Amy liked white wine, I had a bad Jack Daniels habit, Sherry enjoyed a little Bacardi 151, while Karen tended to be more adventurous, et cetera. We’d typically get loaded as hell and then stagger off to the game like millions of football fans and/or college students everywhere, or at least throughout SEC country.
So we left to join others walking up a colorful Cumberland Avenue before reaching the packed main drag taking us down to the stadium. We made the game just in time, which was always a bit of a mystery, but it suited me just fine. We each snuck our illicit booze into the stadium in individually creative ways like most of the 107,000 others at the game. (Sports alcoholics can be desperately creative and inventive but no trade secrets will be shared at the present.)
We had a great time at the game, with Amy nearly losing her voice with impassioned nonstop cheering. Our time was made all the better in UT getting the winning outcome we’d hoped for over LSU. It had been a hard-hitting victory. The problem now was how to get home, or anywhere for that matter, after over seven hours of nonstop imbibing.
(Naturally it was tempting to join the throngs of other drunken fans out celebrating UT’s win at numerous bars, restaurants and clubs over on The Strip. The only reason to consider putting that off is because it was an early game, people would be there for many hours still, and if we went back to Robert’s pad, we’d have a chance to get some coffee, try to sober up a bit, freshen up, even perhaps change so we could go down to The Strip later that evening ready for Round Two [or Three?] in pursuit of celebrating a football win in an American southern purely Loud ‘n Proud rowdy SEC fan tradition way. Which seems meaningful when you’re in the moment but otherwise is occasionally frowned upon by people in other geographic regions and even countries, let alone various sectors of people who criticize the ritual of “binge drinking,” or more commonly referred to as “tailgating” in the South!)
For some reason, we left the stadium by a different gate while jockeying for position in the crowds that emptied out into a huge, long line of stretch limos on Stadium Drive right outside Neyland Stadium. Someone muttered how it’d be damn nice to take one of those just about anywhere rather than have to drunkenly drag ourselves back to the apartment. Robert said, “Hold on,” and confidently walked up to the driver waiting out in front of one of the bigger limos and said to him, “Right, we’re all here now. Get us out of here, my good man!”
We stood there for a moment expecting a sharp retort, but after the driver glanced up at the tall lanterned-jawed seemingly blue-blood blond man fronting our motley group of impaired football fans, he sighed and slowly walked around the side of the car before opening the back passenger door, and while gesturing us forward, saying, “All right then. Everyone please be careful getting in the vehicle.”
And we were off…