8:30 am--I accidentally frighten all present at friend's house by exiting guest bathroom wearing nothing but a Ute Ski Cap and a towel (it is cold).
9:30 am--Refereed dispute between six and ten year old sisters on way to breakfast relating to where exactly "her half" of the backseat began . This experience prepared me for later in the day when I would referee a dispute at Rice-Eccles which arose when late arriving fans dressed in Blue took great offense at a stray Ute who inhabited "their" seat. Fortunately, both disputes were resolved without bloodshed. BONUS: Able to impart some teachings on the inevitability of disappointment in one's life by beginning the attempted breakfast at River's but ending up at Amber.
11:30 am--The boys began gathering at previously mentioned friend's home in Olympus Cove. Realized that middle age is surely around the corner when each person that arrived commented on the obvious lack of ability of the homeowner to operate his snowblower properly.
12:30 pm--all parties present and accounted for--whereupon an hour long discussion errrrrrrr argument was held concerning which person was to have the honor of driving.
2:15 pm--Spencer's at the Hilton for drinks and to pick up another member of the entourage. Keith Van Horn walked in for lunch prompting a short discussion from which a consensus emerged that "he's tall".
2:40 pm--An attempt to procure the dangerous drug known as alcohol begins. Ten years having passed since my last residency in the State and lacking a personal escort by Rocky Anderson through the Byzantine liquor laws, I begin my attempt in the gift shop. There is no liquor, but there is a helpful clerk who suggests I may want to try a store where they sell "liquor and wine---and maybe some beer too I think". With that helpful advice we set sail in the car north on West Temple. Stuck in traffic I spot the Marriott, where something in my brain tells me there used to be a store that sold "liquor and wine--and maybe some beer too I think." Dodging traffic I sprint into the building to find an office where the liquor used to be and an empty meeting room where the bar used to be. I am old.
2:50 pm--An exceptionally busy parking lot in front of a building marked “State Wine Store”. Inside they offer to sell me a $15 bottle of Bourbon for $35. I had in mind a couple of mini bottles to fool the brain into thinking it wasn’t freezing to death. I return to the car empty handed and reminded of one of the things I don’t miss about Utah. Fortunately, a member of our group is from Provo and is a little more prepared for this type of thing than the rest of us. He has an extra flask full of Crown Royal which he graciously hands over.
3:30 pm--Rice Eccles Stadium. I brought every bit of cold weather gear I could fit on the plane but I am still not convinced I’m dressed properly. As our group is seated in three separate locations, an agreement is made to meet at portal 9 just after halftime. I discover an elevator (no, I’m not telling you where it is or else too many of you out of shape bastards will use it) to take me to my seats.
4:00 pm--Kickoff. I know this because I can hear others saying things like “here we go” and “whooee”. Unfortunately, my contacts have frozen onto my eyeballs and I can’t see anything. I finally put my sunglasses back on even though it is dark to keep the breeze out. Mr. Vegas.
4:30 pm--Into the Crown Royal now. Not drinking it--but pouring it onto my shoes and attempting to light it on fire. This SEEMS dangerous but is it any less dangerous than traversing those stairs when everything below the knees is frozen?
Six minutes before halftime--Security was nearly called by concession personnel when I requested to stick my head into the Hot Pretzel machine. Not even the promise of money was enough for those people. The bastards kept muttering something about “health regulations”. All I know of the game at this point is that it seemed like some guy kept wrong footing the ball between the goal posts whereafter all the fat people in attendance stand and sing “Rise and Shout”.
Two minutes BEFORE halftime--all parties present in front of Portal 9. A quick inventory of affected body parts reveals three guys who can’t feel their feet, two guys who can’t feel their face, and one guy who is so cold it’s no longer anatomically possible to pee. A strategic decision is made to sprint to the car and retreat to Green Street.
Second Half--upon arrival at Green Street I am confronted by a group of people who accuse me of being a “fair weather fan”. It is said with a smile, however, as the group is dressed in red and still bears the marks of having been stored in a freezer for the previous two hours. We are welcomed with food and drink. I immediately decide that this place is better than where I left as it is a) warm b)has a big screen tv c)serves food and beer d)has no fat people singing.
Fourth Quarter--I’m torn now. Not between wanting the Utes to win and Lavell to go out with dignity. No, I’m torn between watching the big screen in front of my table or watching the group of hotties exchanging gifts of lingerie at the table behind me. I’m reminded of the difference between men and women when one of the girls suggests that if we’re lucky perhaps we’ll see them wearing the items later that evening. I’m pretty sure most men would feel luckier to see them NOT wearing them later that evening. Was there a football game or something? Why am I here again?
Oh yeah, I forgot. Utah scores and the place erupts in cheers. BYU scores and the place goes back to trying to get laid. Life in a Ute bar. Some things never change, I guess.
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