Gainesvegas, Florida

As some of you readers may recall, I had the opportunity to attend two home football games at the University of Florida this season. This came about because: (a) I love attending live sporting events; (b) its a college town with college co-eds; and (c) Racecar graduated from UF, and is thus incredibly brainwashed, indoctrinated or just a big fan, whichever one actually applies. Although the original plan was to blog from each of the games, too much drinking and a lack of actual maneuvering around campus contributed to a lack of stories for each of the two games, however, combining them into one post made much more sense. And the eve of the SEC championship game seems like the appropriate time. So that it's easier to read, I am going to treat the stories as if they happened in one weekend. For the record, the two games were against the University of Miami and LSU.

Each weekend we arrived, we would go to the Dragonfly in downtown Gainesville for dinner. A great place for sushi and people watching as everybody, and I mean absolutely everybody, tries to get in there on game weekends. We try to arrive by 6:00 - 6:30 at the latest, otherwise it's an incredibly long wait. From Dragonfly it's usually back to Racecar's friends, Steffan and Tera's house. Steffan and Tera are incredibly gracious hosts on game weekends, letting friends and acquaintances stay the night in their extra rooms and usually hosting a gameday party/cookout/kegfest the day of the game. Each of these two gamedays were no exception. Much love to Steffan and Tera.

After getting back to Steffan and Tera's, Racecar and I changed clothes from our trip (it's a good four hour drive, made a bit longer on game weekends), to go out for the evening. Steffan is a regular, well everywhere, but Racecar and I were to take leave of our hosts that evening to meet up with my boy KZ and his wife Amy. He is a UF alum, while Amy just puts up with him. KZ wants to meet at the Purple Porpoise (I know it is officially Gator City, but no self-respecting patron would ever call it that). For those not familiar with the Porpoise, it is a college bar, through and through, separated into 3 sections. The front looks like a regular restaurant/bar, with a long bar and tables to sit at. The middle section turns into a dance club at night, while the back is a pure bar, with televisions showing games, pool tables, video games, dart boards, etc. We saunter into the back for a number of reasons, but primarily because it is the least crowded. Racecar and I arrive first.

We decide to start the evening with a pitcher and a shot each, so I walk up to the bar to order. (Who am I kidding, we "started off" at Dragonfly). I walk to the bar to purchase our libations and I see a college kid wearing a t-shirt with a Republican elephant on it talking to three attractive females in brightly colored dresses about how the Republican Party under George Bush has abandoned its principles by overspending any administration in history. Even though I agree with that statement, I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Buddy, trust me on this one. It's great that you are political and involved, but I am sure that on game weekend these lovely ladies don't want to be discussing politics".

I know that he took the advice to heart, because as I went to order round 2, another pitcher with a patron for me (no training wheels), I hear him holding court with the same lovely young ladies. This time he is talking about music, particularly the Unda Surveillance song "On Deck". He is talking about the words to the song, but butchering the line "Got my Patron on Deck". Again, I intervene and tell him the proper line, "Got my Patron on deck". He says thanks, I turn to the bar, grab my shot, and tell him, "No, I am serious, my Patron was on deck". Sometimes it is just way too easy with college kids.

KZ and Amy arrive, with lots of their friends in tow. We have a good time, but its getting to be about time to liven the place up a bit. I walk over to the jukebox to play a PepSet. (I must give Sinickal the credit for first coining the phrase SiSet, but I have now co-opted it, as PepSet sounds better anyway). Now, I enjoy different types of music, but each has their own place. At around 10-10:30 on game weekend in a college bar, its time for some rhythm. I put on some Stevie, some Earth Wind & Fire (the greatest band of all time) definitely some Michael J (two songs in fact), a little U2 (Sunday, Bloody Sunday). I continued the set with Mary J. Blige, Outkast, Flo-Rida (for Racecar), Beenie Man and finished it up with Akon and two new ones by Kardinal Offishall and Lady Gaga. I know I had a few more. A pretty good set if I do say so myself. A kid named Edwin was standing behind me with some money, looked at me and said, "Great picks, now I don't have to play any songs". Now we just wait until my songs play.

As we are talking to our friends and imbibing some surprisingly expensive beers for a college bar, we see a completely obliterated couple come up to the jukebox (we are situated close to it) and make some plays. Only, it turns out, they paid extra to have each of their songs played "next". The first four were garbage, but then Bell Biv Devoe's "Poison" comes on, and they start screaming and dancing. I look at the guy, asked him if he selected this song, and he says "Yes, isn't it great?" My reply was, "Yeah, 1 out of 5 ain't bad". Too easy I tell ya.

After a bit more conversatin' (geez, Gainesville is rubbing off on my diction - no pun intended - Ok, maybe it was), the girls want to go into the dance club section of the bar. Only, it isn't playing any of what I would consider dance music. Toni Basil's "Mickey" was the first song I heard, then Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun". I look around and I see why they aren't playing any dance music as the young, mostly white crowd is flailing around aimlessly. Not much dancing really going on. In a (not so) completely unrelated note, Racecar may, or may not, have fallen a couple of times. For those of you that remember my post from last November, this could officially become a trend.

The next morning we wake up, have some breakfast and bring some bagels back to the household to help Steffan and Tera prepare for the party. It goes relatively swimmingly, except for the one guy who takes over the grill and immediately starts serving double cheeseburgers to everyone that requests a burger. Not that I minded, but then again, I didn't buy the burgers. He then looks back at the grill and sees two burgers that don't look right, so he just throws them into the bushes. Unfortunately, this clown didn't realize that Tera is a vegetarian, and those were her veggie burgers. Needless to say, Tera was hungry.

After some great afternoon drinking, we decide to head up to the stadium a few hours before kickoff for some official tailgating. This is incredibly easy for us to do as Steffan and Tera live six blocks from the Porpoise and the Swamp (the bar) and seven blocks from The Swamp (the Stadium). It's an easy two-legged commute, and an easier two wheel commute (bike taxi). We actually walk to the stadium and stop off at Pita Pit for a bite. If you have one near you, try it. While I stand in line, three obviously college age girls stand directly in front of me. One is on the telephone and the other two have rather disgusted looks on their face. While listening to half of the conversation, I surmise that the one on the telephone is trying to meet up with some guy. Right before hanging up, she says, OK, we will meet you at Mothers. The other two girls tell her that they don't want to go to Mothers, and proceed to leave the Pita Pit. The first one then shouts, "Wait, where is Mothers?" I answer her quickly, "Chicago". Didn't I tell you that sometimes it is just too easy with college kids?

We then head out to a pre-determined tailgate, hosted by the business partner of the brother of a friend of Racecar (or something like that). We get there, meet some people, have some drinks, and generally enjoy ourselves. Lots of music is playing, and as the song turns to Akon's "I Wanna Make Love (Na Na Na Na)", everyone proceeds to (try to) dance. After the interesting performances the previous night, and watching at this moment, I officially give Gainesville, Florida a nickname. Not the "Titletown, USA" that they wanted to steal from Green Bay, WI in the ESPN travesty, but rather, "Gainesville, Florida: The Town that Rhythm Forgot". Trust me, it is apropos.

From the tailgate we proceed to the game. As we are walking, we remember that a couple we know had a really bad spat earlier during the day. Why do we remember this? Because that couple is who got us tickets. Talking about awkward. Still enjoyed the games, as much as possible when the game is boring (Miami) and completely uncompetitive (LSU).

I don't want to get into the full rant now, as I am trying to work out a future post, but Florida fans, at least the ones in the stadium, are awful. Telling people to sit down during important plays because they are trying to watch the game. This seems to be a trend, as a similar situation occurred during last year's Capital One Bowl game versus Michigan.

Due to the lopsided scores, and our day long inebriation, we leave the game a bit early, stop and get some pizza, and take a bike taxi back to Steffan and Tera's house. Once everyone else returns, the partying continues until everyone passes out.

Now Steffan and Tera are great hosts, as I mentioned earlier, offering up spare bedrooms, couches and everything else available. On one of these occasions, Racecar and I were awarded the office. Much better than a couch or even the picnic table outside, we considered ourselves lucky, as the office had an air mattress. Unfortunately, Racecar and I are not the smallest couple in the world, and I think this had an effect on the air mattress, which wilted under our collective pressure (weight?). The entire night, each toss and turn proceeded to throw the other person around the mattress, or off of it entirely. Definitely an entertaining evening.

For those that like live sporting events, you can certainly do worse than a football game at the University of Florida. Just take my word for it, do not say anything bad about Tim Tebow. They get really touchy about that in Gainesville.