The pants, the bus, and the boat

A college lab partner and I had a series of sayings to illustrate how frustrated we could become. “Ooh,” she’d say, “you’re really wearing the bitter pants today.” Riding the bitter bus was even worse, but the most roar-worthy situations were classified as driving the bitter boat. We rarely hit the boat stage, but over the weekend, I was totally wearing the pants on that bus that was riding on the boat.

JG and I have season tickets to see the University of Delaware home football games and we have a ball every time we go. We usually have a small tailgate out of the Subaru’s trunk and we get to the stadium with plenty of time to see the band’s pre-game show so that I can hoot and holler for them and sing the alto part of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” I learned how to watch football during afternoons in the student stands, so going to see the team holds a special place in my heart. I enjoy seeing all of the fancy tailgates, kids in jerseys, and just how many layers of Delaware clothing I can wear at once. It’s really quite festive.

With this beaming attitude, despite the 7:30am hour on a Saturday, we set out for Homecoming 2007. Woo! JG had packed a tailgate with ingredients for omelets and I had a short list of people to call once we got there because you never know who you’ll find at Homecoming. After a quick 20-minute drive, we were about half a mile from the stadium and JG commented that we’d be tailgating by 8am. We rolled to a stop at a weird point in traffic and then didn’t move. We sat for 40 minutes before we even got to the stadium, where we found out that The Powers That Be had limited the usual four entrances into tailgating lots to just one without telling anyone. Thousands of backed-up cards bearing thousands of confused fans were forced to drive past the stadium, make a U-turn back into traffic, and then pull into the stadium’s one entrance. JG and I were livid. Aside from the fact that changing a traffic pattern on the busiest football weekend in the season when an onslaught of alumni is about to descend is a really stupid idea, I was completely irritated that there was no publicity. There were no signs to indicate that only one entrance was open. The traffic cops did nothing except to wave us on to the next cop. People got out of their cars to carry their tailgating supplies and left their drivers to navigate elsewhere and illegal driving abounded.

As though the traffic weren’t bad enough, when we got to the one open entrance after an hour and a half, the cop told us we couldn’t park there. I was ready to jump across JG and strangle the guy. We followed their crappy traffic pattern to get to their one entrance and this is what happens? I screamed out my window, “This is freaking ridiculous!” as JG pulled away in a fit of frustration. We finally parked into a commuter train lot that was, painfully, exactly where we had started the whole debacle just before 8am. It was 9:30, I was not in a tailgating lot, and we were about to schlep our supplies to a friend’s van to crash his tailgate. I was composing my irate complaint (still yet to be sent) as a means to keep my spirits up. I was bitter. Oh, so bitter.

Fortunately, in spite of the infuriating start, we had a really good day. We dropped our stuff at JG’s friend’s tailgate, where we were handed beer without a word. I am not a beer person and I think it tastes awful, but because I was so jittery from the gnashing of teeth and clenching of fists, I opened it without hesitation as JG looked on with his jaw on the ground. I shrugged and said, “They have nothing but beer here!” and took a sip. Desperate times, people. Lo and behold! Beer still tastes awful! But the shock snapped me out of my funk and I got on the phone to call our other friends, who asked me where I got my so-called “lame beer” and exchanged it quickly for a Woodchuck Cider. Mm, much better. JG made me a fabulous omelet for breakfast, my pumpkin dip was a hit, and we won the game, so with all things considered, I had a fantastic Homecoming after all. In my eyes, Delaware Football, with the exception of the events staff, was redeemed. I happily jumped out of the boat, got off the bus, and shed those bitter pants.