9/21/07

I woke to the sound of some jackass blowing his horn this morning. That pretty much sucks, but I really needed to get my ass up and going anyway. I headed to Meijer for some food, drinks, and supplies. Then it was back home to load up the car. Then, over to Mom's house to grab a portable grill and cooler. Then it was almost like I was at work, as I waited and waited and waited. I had ordered some meat from Omaha Steaks in preparation for tomorrow's tailgate. Unfortunately the UPS guy was running behind today. So... we got rolling for South Bend later than expected. Such is life.

Earlier in the day, my friend Brian made contact with a guy about four tickets and a much-coveted parking pass to the Joyce lot. Our price was X, and the guy's price was Y. Well, Y was out of range so we assumed it was a non-issue. A while later, the fella called to offer two tickets. No pal, we wanted four tickets plus the parking pass. The guy balked, so we started driving to South Bend.

After we arrived and checked into our hotel (compliments of my mother), we commenced with the libations. Out of the blue, a call came in at 11pm. The dude from earlier was willing to meet our terms - four tickets plus a pass to the Joyce lot for our offered price. Apparently his better offer had failed to materialize. Beauty. There was, of course, one catch. He was in Big Rapids and we were in South Bend.

What to do, what to do? Are you kidding? Like any real fans of the Irish, we headed north. We agreed to meet halfway. The target destination was Plainwell, Michigan, along US-131. As it turned out, our rendezvous point wound up being Kalamazoo. Seller man apparently drives faster than I do. Good enough. Tickets and parking pass in hand, we returned to South Bend. After several more 12 oz. refreshments, I'm left to wonder the following: Who in the hell drives three hours round-trip to get tickets to see an 0-3 football team? Faith, my friends, faith. That's what it's all about.

Tomorrow's wake-up call comes early, but it will be worth it. Good food, cold beer, the shadow of Touchdown Jesus... does it get any better? I think not.