Inside The Pylon was promised the diary of an Arizona State football fanatic at a tailgate, illustrating the prototypical Sun Devil experience. What we received was a drinking log slash photo essay. Apparently they are the same thing.
Football is many things to many people. For some it is chance to observe elite athletes pitched in competition. For others, a chance to get together with friends and family and think upon the good times. And for crazed college football fans around the country, like me, it’s a chance to make more good times, often doing atrocious things to oneself in the process. I am an Arizona State Sun Devils fan, and this is my story.
Last weekend I, along with my fellow Sun Devils fans, invaded Houston for the ASU season opener against Texas A&M. Armed with with koozies, a flask, dreams of fantastic times, and cash that may be shot out the cash cannon (which I also have with me), I am ready to tailgate. My ASU gear included t-shirts, hats, visors, wrist bands, head bands, and a flag. Given the expectations of rampant debauchery, we were fully prepared to accept the consequences of battling through hangovers and the the very real possibility that Monday night would be spent shivering under a bed sheet as our bodies sweat out alcohol.
Let’s see how it played out:
Friday
1:15 PM – Strategically using a conference call to stealth out of work early and Uber to the airport in order to beat traffic, I knocked out some last minute work before my flight. My previous concern that the decision to stay out until 3 AM last night would be a mistake is confirmed.
2:30 PM – Conference call concluded while at the Delta lounge. Reconsidered the decision to not drink until Houston. However, I opted for red wine to remain classy. This is an important consideration for all people representing Arizona State University. And people are always classy in airports, right?
3:30 PM – As I am waiting to board my flight, a fan dressed in University of Texas gear approaches and says, “Hope [you] beat down A&M, as someone needs to shut them up!” College football rules.
5:00 PM – I land in Houston an hour before my buddy, so I strut around in my gear – represent – until I find a bar across from his gate. Debated meeting him with shots, but opted instead for Guinness.
6:30 PM – I’ve impressed my friend (and on-lookers) by sneaking the remaining Guinness past airport security by cleverly placing my cup in a koozie master-criminal style.
8:30 PM – Pre-party meal at food trucks outside the ASU meet-up bar. I am gratified to witness a large, loud sea of Maroon and Gold.
9:30 PM – I ease into the evening session with a vodka soda and a tequila shot – eeeeaaaaassssyyy.
Fast forward. Readers, imagine there was more beer and shots coupled with ASU chants. And beer.
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12:16 AM – The topic of conversation has turned to the problems of married people. I’m not married (more on this later) and a football pregame party is neither the time or place to maturely discuss relationships. I set off to find more tequila, which might make this bearable.
12:25 AM – Nope. I’m going to the hotel bar for a nightcap.
2:00 AM – Last call, and more tequila shots, while ordering 8 beers from room service. In retrospect, the beers cost $77.13. The room? $121.75 a night.
Saturday
10 AM – I awake to 2 beers remaining, and 2 casualties that we didn’t finish. Not a bad start.
While cleaning up, I notice pillows in the corner and remember that my buddy flipped over the mattress while I was sitting on it, in order to reminisce about when they did that to me in 2007. I hate my friends.
One drink in and already have wasted face. Long day ahead
12pm – I am very thankful the mall next to a hotel had a Taco Bell, which totally saved my life. Like seriously whoever invented their spicy potato taco should get a nobel peace prize
1:00pm – The hotel bar is open and it is time for vodka sodas.
1:30pm – I am en route to the stadium for a tailgate pregame party sponsored by the fine people at Tito’s Vodka.
1:56pm – The keg is foamy, so I’m back to vodka soda. This decision will come back to haunt me.
2:42pm – We spot a zebra in a gold jersey and go to make friends.
3:00 PM – 6:00 PM:
- Too much vodka soda.
- Winning a game of Beirut. I called, “Championship!” as I threw the last ping pong ball. Because I’m a grown up and stuff.
- At one point I was leaning on a tree and next thing I knew I was on the ground.
- I think I fell.
- A vodka soda was chugged out of a pink flamingo.
- The more I think about it, yeah, I’m pretty sure I fell.
- Then a buddy kicked me in the junk. It was not nice.
6:00 PM – GAME TIME! Yelling ensues. I think I teleported here and my buddy just handed me a beer. This is awesome!
Nothing else will be discussed about the game that never happened* except sometime in the 3rd quarter my ankle started hurting. A lot. It is unclear if it was due to the fall or another incident, but it really F’N hurts.
*[Editor’s Note: Regardless of what the author claims, the game did occur and was attended by our despondent correspondent. There is documentation.]
- OK fine, I will acknowledge that I cringed when I saw the text that one of our main RB options was sent home with mono. Never a good sign that the kissing disease has invaded the locker room. I blame an undercover Aggie fan, as no Sun Devil fan would endanger the program so irresponsibly.
- We held out hope that we’d win up until about 4 minutes left.
11-ish PM – The hour walk out of the stadium to find an Uber was awesome after the loss.
Like super awesome. Uber surge was 5x too. Again, super awesome.
Oh, then the Uber started driving away before I was in the car, causing me to run on this ankle.
Thanks buddy. I think my friend gave him a 6th star for that.
12:00-ish AM – Back to ASU bar for some postgame consolation drinking.
12:51 AM – My friend and I realized that the hotel had what we needed: food. And room service beer. Food and beer brought to our door.
What a country.
Sunday
1:10 PM – I am in my seat for the first pitch at the Astros game. I don’t recall the last time I experienced a baseball game without beer or booze of some sort. What a stupid, boring game.
4:30 PM – We’re off to Twin Peaks for beer and food!
4:45 PM – My buddy talks about how much better he feels now that he’s knocked out that shot of rumple.
5:15 PM – More relationship talk around me. It becomes very clear a strip club is in my future.
8:00-ish PM – We are given free passes to a local club, and off we go.
8:01-ish PM – Ankle not feeling any better. Chasing that Uber probably helped though.
8:30 PM – A very cute blonde from Poland in a little black dress takes our drink order. My buddy is pretty drunk. I think it was the shot of rumple. Or maybe the other shots of rumple
10:30PM – I discover the lapdance policy is 3 for $100. I’ve already had four. The weaksauce is further enforced when I learn that the ATM charges 10% for withdrawals. Whatever. This is why I work all week.
12:00 AM – I am definitely interested in buying this cocktail waitress things and taking her to exotic destinations. I find out her favorite place in the world is the Canary Islands. Meanwhile, my buddy won’t shut up about how cute she is. I use his inebriation to flirt.
1:30 AM – I purchase a bottle of wine because that way she can have a glass with us. This is a good decision.
1:45 AM – I tell the super cute Polish cocktail waitress I owe her a better glass for putting up with my buddy. She points out I don’t live in Houston. I respond that’s what airplanes are for and I show her my travel schedule, which has me back in Houston next week on business.
1:47 AM – She has me write my number on the back of the bill. I guess I have to tip well now.
2:10 AM – I am back at the hotel, where my buddy yells at me to get my ass in gear because we’re going to the other strip joint that closes at 6 AM. I reluctantly finish pooping and follow him to the Uber.
2:25 AM – Inside the other strip club and I realize it’s an awful, awful idea. Anyone that wants to look up Baby O’s can see why. However, my buddy won’t leave and is being a dick.
2:32 AM – I’m back in an Uber after telling him to screw off. I stand by this decision.
Monday
8:00 PM – After a day of work, I’m back at the bars to meet a friend who is in town. What can go wrong?
12:15 AM – An Ohio State fan enters bar. Oh good, he orders O Bombs for us.
12:52 AM – Aaaaand I am home and in bed. There may be some causation there.
Tuesday
4:43pm – Haven’t received a text from Marina.
Yet.
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PIERCE YOUR PETER, DAVE
Hmm, I thought I was An Idiot