5 Things That Will Happen During Your First Postgrad Gameday Weekend
1. You’ll make an idiotic bet
Yeah, so your alma mater is a 10-point underdog at home and facing the nation’s top defense. Who cares? You’ve been drinking since 5 o’clock on Friday and your clouded mind somehow thinks your sophomore quarterback is going to miraculously throw for 400 yards against a secondary that rivals the New York Jets. Plus, you’re in the big leagues now! You make $45k a year! You’re practically a millionaire, bro! Throw down next month’s rent on your squad, prepare for embarrassment and an ass chewing from your Serbian landlady when you have to explain that you lost $750 to some idiot junior who was totally disrespecting your school by using simple logic. You’ve seen what she does to her husband at night.
2. You’ll see a girl you used to hook up with and she’ll look really, really good
A wave of nostalgia will sweep over you as you see her approaching from a distance. She was two years older than you and gave you a one way ticket to poundtown after the golf pros and tennis hoes party your sophomore year when you dropped that killer line about how to sink a boat on a golf course or something, but it worked so well that you two were playing “just the tip” a half hour later in your bed. Whatever, you were both blacked out. Well, she’s dropped about 15 pounds since graduating and sweet lord, she has aged better than a fine scotch. Don’t worry, you don’t have a chance with her because she doesn’t drink anymore and you’d have to seriously outkick the coverage on this one. Plus, she’s probably already dating/married to a doctor or a lawyer or Captain fucking America. But that shouldn’t stop you from trying to rekindle an old slam.
3. You’ll probably drink too much
It used to be funny and understandable to be blacked out an hour before kickoff, but now that you’ve graduated, people expect you to be able to control your liquor intake. Damnit, being back on your old stomping grounds can bring out the best and worst in you. You’ll be the guy on the downtown patio before sundown bumping into tables and spilling drinks all over your new pair of boots. But you’re a wily vet. You know how to handle this kind of situation. Sit down at a table, stare at a wall for 45 minutes, get your shit together and rally before the band hits the field.
4. You’ll end up back at the frat
Pure instinct will lead you back to the house. You’ll stumble out of the stadium in a horrifying state of detox. Your senses are hazy, so you hop on the path you know best. The long, slow trek back to your old domain. Upon entering the house, there’s music playing somewhere, yet no one is to be found. There’s some random sophomore playing his guitar to three barely functional freshmen girls and the house reeks of stale beer. Is this heaven? Soon you’ll be in someone’s room, passing around a bottle of cheap vodka and Sunkist. With your phone nearly dead, survival tactics switch on. How do you get back to the hotel? Did you leave your credit card(s) at a bar? Where the fuck are your friends? Who the fuck cares? You’ll awake early the next morning in a state of panic as you have no idea how or why you passed out on a couch that you have no recollection of ever sitting down on. Hopefully you didn’t piss yourself or else you’d be subjected to years of ridicule, maybe never being allowed back to tailgate at your favorite place in the world. Your friends will arrive like clockwork, instinctively knowing where to find you because you’re such a degenerate.
5. The trip home will be the most horrible, depressing hours of your life
The weekend flew by in a flash. You’re hungover, dirty, tired and likely suffering from a mild to severe panic attack. It’s like being pulled away from your child. You want to stay, but can’t. You were in such a state of nirvana that you didn’t take the time to appreciate and realize how great being back was. You’ll probably pull over at a gas station, load up on Gatorade and Combos, maybe a taquito or three and begin the long, slow march back to your postgrad life. You’ll stare out into the farms and open countryside as you ride shotgun back to your apartment, holding back vomit and explosive diarrhea, praying that someone has a giant bottle of Advil stashed in their glove box that they forgot about. All you’ll be able to think about is when you will get to do it all over again.