The following takes place between 8am and 8pm last Sunday.
8:31am….I Call my brother to see if he wants to go to the Jags/Browns NFL game.
8:35….I hear the unmistakable metallic sound of a Red and White (Budweiser, fool) being popped open—it’s not his first of the day. So I know he’s in.
9:12….I have some unfinished business from last night to take care of.
9:14….Unfinished business now finished, I drop her off at her apartment, and make a couple of pre-game stops.
10:51….Arrive at my brother’s place. Way out in the woods of Northeast Florida. If you drive the ¼ mile dirt driveway all the way up to his house you must know him. Or, perhaps, just have a warrant*kidding*.
11:01….I bury my first Bloody Mary. Clamato Juice, Old Bay seasoning, and the Goose. That’s the way to pound a 32oz. Bloody Mary. When the Vodka runs out, Clamato and Bud Light are pretty damn good.
12:16pm….We’re watching NFL pre-game shows and NASCAR pre-race shows. Is Boomer Esiason the only one who knows the game? How are Terry Bradshaw and Jimmy Spencer still on TV?
1:45….After watching most of the first half of some bad NFL game—the race still hasn’t started—we head to Freakville for the Jags 4pm kickoff.
2:41….Dude didn’t have any parking spots left at his house, so we’re parked at the church across the street for $20. We sit here for about 30 minutes watching the race on the portable TV. I call my boy, P-Diddy (not that one, fool) from Charleston to see if he’s at the game. He is, we’ll grab a drink inside the stadium with him. A cooler full of beer and no port-o-lets at the church take their toll. So, we head the 200 yards to the stadium.
3:33….I break a cardinal rule and buy tickets from the first scalper I see. It works out this time, though. Two, $58 tix for $25 apiece. We won’t be sitting in them anyway.
3:55…We are inside the Bud Zone above the South end zone. Surprisingly, it’s not too crowded. You can actually walk through there without rubbing your arms all in some stripper’s Tetons. Damn!
4:01….Out onto the Bud Zone patio overlooking the Southwest corner of the end zone just in time for kickoff. We have a cool little crew surrounding us, two tall, dreadlocked bros to my left who continuously yell “Bluuu”. They think it’s hilarious when I yell “Blahhh” in return. Directly in front of us we have one big redneck, his girl, and three strippers, old strippers, but still putting it out there. Who am I to judge?
4:32….I look at my phone and see 4 missed calls from P-Diddy. I go down to field level to use the facilities and my phone.
4:56….Still can’t reach Diddy. I know, I’ll call that #1 Browns’ fan—JOKERSWILD—.
5:05….Damn, Browns have scored again. I walk through the tunnel right past some rent-a-cops, until I’m up against the short chain link fence at the back of the end zone. Browns are kicking off right in front of me. I call JOKERSWILD and we either got cut off or he hung up on me. I redial, he answers, and now there’s a hand on my shoulder. One of the guards figured out I wasn’t supposed to be on the field right as I was telling JW to look for me in the end zone. As I was listening to the guard, JW was asking me if I was being kicked out of the stadium. I told him, “no, just off the field.”
5:30…. Back upstairs I run into P-Diddy and his crew. We drink a couple more cocktails and Diddy and one of his partners come join my group on the patio.
6:22….*Actual Game Alert* Jags kicker, Josh Scobee runs down Browns alleged all-pro return man, and makes vicious tackle.
It all gets hazy after this. I heard that the Browns won. I do remember that I was trying to sell CDs for the dreadlocked bros to any hotts that passed by. I also remember the bros had a camera and were getting some nice mountain scenery. Except for that one old stripper who didn’t want her pic with me. Imagine that. I told her not to expect me to show up during the day shift to tip her. I also remember the ride home, so everything worked out.
