So I was totally excited to write this column - yeah, that's right, TOTALLY. I was so excited for Homecoming. I am just chock-full of that Jumbo spirit. But Homecoming offers us more than the chance to cheer on the old Brown and Blue and chime in on that one line we all know of the fight song (You know, T-U-F-T-S! T-U-F-T-S! something, something, something...). It also provides an opportunity to combine two things that this Lush loves, namely drinking before noon and football. Needless to say, I was pumped. Then Mother Nature went all biblical on our asses and Homecoming totally sucked.
I expected more from this Homecoming; this one had so much going for it. My best friend was in town, and my roommates and I had planned a big pregame breakfast to start the day off right.
We all remembered to set our alarms so that we could get the day started well before noon like respectable tailgaters. The apartment was a-flurry with activity: There was bacon to crisp, coffee cake to bake, coffee to brew, and lazy, sleeping friends to call relentlessly until they woke up and got themselves to our place.
Emotions were all over the board. Breakfast was ready and our feast was laid out on the coffee table. Beers were opened; cups of coffee had been fortified with Bailey's. Surely this day would rock. But friends began to arrive, each more drenched then the last. Jackets that were merely water-resistant were already defeated, shoes soaked through, umbrellas turned inside out. Faces were glum. Spirits began to dampen.
What could cheer us? What could warm our hearts and our bellies? Four-layer Jell-o shots, of course. I use shots here in the loosest sense possible, for my roommate Ellen has taken the old standard and turned it into nothing less than an art form. Once upon a time, the Lush swore never to touch Jell-O shots again, lest it lead to another Saturday spent lying on the bathroom floor. But these colorful treats proved impossible to resist. These were not shot-sized, but rather full glasses of Jell-O - in layers of blue, red, green, and orange - and they required the use of a spoon and often a buddy to consume them.
It was still pouring by our scheduled departure time of 1 p.m., but the Jell-O started to kick in, so we were feeling pretty OK. Then, even better news came. Our friend had been on call at work, unable to drink - apparently ice cream stores keep people on call these days - and found out at one that he didn't have to work. Departure was postponed so that he could pound a few drinks before we left.
Thanks to some nasty Brazilian "rum" (that smelled suspiciously like raisins and had been sitting in my kitchen collecting dust for quite a while), he was his bright red, Asian-glow-faced self ten minutes later. We suited up (layers, people, layers!) - hoodie, jacket, hat, and a bag of beers. But which shoes to wear? Preliminary scouting reports from the unfortunate few who had already been mired in the muck of Alumni Field were not positive. Some advocated boots. Others suggested flip-flops. Still others said, "Screw it, I can always buy new sneakers."
This was no decision to make lightly. The status of the Lush's feet could make or break the day. The Lush decided to just go with the flip-flops and sacrifice the wellbeing of her feet for the sake of getting on with the festivities.
You know your Homecoming must have sucked when the walk there was the most fun part of the entire day. Despite a pair of very cold feet, the Lush was in rare form on the trek to Alumni Field. It was time for another favorite Lush pastime: bothering random people that pass on the street with pointless and obnoxious comments. "I just wanted to let you know that open bottle-containers are illegal in the State of Massachusetts" - of course said while carrying an open bottle - was a particular favorite of my group that day. One family in particular did not look at all amused as my drunk, no longer on-call friend warned them to watch out for the "ocean" he had just walked through.
Another way you can expect your Homecoming to suck: it's scheduled to coincide with Parents' Weekend. Hey parents, your kid drinks, too. Loosen up. I prefer my booze sans judgment, thank you very much.
We arrived to find what most of you probably remember with various degrees of fondness: a foot of mud. The suction effect quickly rendered the flip-flops useless - solid choice, Lush - so they were relegated to the bag of beers on my arm, and I faced the field barefoot. If you heard someone yelling about how they were probably going to get tetanus, that was me. I made the rounds to see all the alums I knew, but by the second quarter I had retreated to the protection of the alumni tent.
I thought I was safe, but who was I kidding, drunk kids with mud? I, along with everyone else, was soon covered. I was nowhere near drunk enough to be amused by a muddy face which my friend Jason saw fit to bestow upon me, although I thoroughly enjoyed watching OTHER people fall into the mud. By halftime my group was ready to throw in the towel.
I confess I never made it into the game. I retreated to my apartment to hose off outside, stain stick the hell out of my clothes and sulk.
Did this column suck? I admit that it did. But in the Lush's defense, this was the worst of my four Homecoming Days. It was cold. It was dirty. It rained. We lost the football game. We did rebound and the day ended like so many other run-of the-mill college nights, with pizza and Beirut in our basement. We did end up having some fun. Things were looking up again. I truly believed we could rally and save this dismal day.
Then I lost twenty bucks. Homecoming sucked.
