True tales of tailgating

Beer bongs, cold hot dogs, cricket Jell-O shots, and Earl Pomeroy. A few things I hadn't really planned on encountering during my journey to watch some UND football. My basic mission was to tailgate, mingle with the crowd, and drink, oh and maybe watch part of the game.

I was given this idea a few weeks ago and just now had the opportunity to do it. There couldn't have been a more fitting date than Homecoming, being a guarantee for a heavy intake of liquid courage. However, my plan hit a bit of snag days before the game as my group of potential drunken friends told me they couldn't make it up for the game.

There was still one friend left in town though, Clayton or C-Vett as I like to call him. C-Vett is the type of guy that everybody wants to hang out with until he takes it too far over the top. This can be a problem, but he was perfect for the job of creating entertaining moments on my journey. I just had to make sure he was kept in check but this is a task comparable to trying to hate Coach K- as much as you want to it just can't be done. You can't help but respect him. Me being a die-hard Carolina fan, that last statement makes me want to puke, but it's the truth.

9:00 a.m. My wife wakes me up despite the fact she knows I've gotten a combined seven hours of sleep over the past three days. Not a good start.

9:05 a.m. The wife asks me why she can't come to the game. I explain for the thirty-fifth time, "You said you don't want to tailgate and that's what I'm going to do. So I asked Clayton to come with me." Wife is disappointed.

10:00 a.m. C-Vett "claims" he's on his way. He figures ten to thirty minutes. My immediate question is, "Do you know where you are? Because that's quite a gap," to which he replies "Yeah I'm downtown." I know he hasn't left his house yet but whatever."Just get here." Click.

10:10 a.m. Wife again asking why she can't come with. I explain to her again. Still disappointed.

10:30 a.m. No sign of C-Vett. He calls, "I'm ten minutes away." My original thought is confirmed. "From where? My house, Grand Forks, or Canada?"

10:45 a.m. Wife again. Explanation. Disappointed.

11:00 a.m. C-Vett shows up at my house and immediately starts talking about his zebra he bought recently. There are probably only three people, in the world I could see buying a zebra: Michael Jackson, for all the little kiddies, Lawrence Taylor, thinking it would be cool to snort coke of the back of a Zebra, and Clayton. C-Vett wouldn't do it for either of those other insane reasons. My friend is the type of guy that will do almost anything to get a rise out of people and is constantly looking for that next thing that would raise his "WOW" factor. The "WOW" factor only applies to a select few individuals in society. Mainly it's for those people that when they do things and you can't explain them, all you can say is "WOW". Some people on this list would include Britney Spears, Dennis Rodman, Michael Jackson, and Manny Ramirez. If you ask C-Vett why he bought a zebra he'll tell you, "Simply cause I can," but I believe he did it knowing it would increase his "WOW" factor at least a hundred times over. Later you will see why my belief holds water.

11:05 a.m. We begin to leave. Wife one more time. Explanation. Disappointed.

11:10 a.m. As we leave the house we realize we don't have a plan for tailgating and decide the best one would be to find someone we know. I call my cousin, figuring she likes to drink, so she'll have a plan. Sure enough she came through. We were to meet her at her house and then we would go to the Alerus for the tailgating.

11:20 a.m. At the liquor store we can't decide what would cause a larger uproar. We settle on some PBR, another aspect of C-Vett's "WOW" factor; who would drink Pabst and not expect a few comments?

11:25 a.m. On the way out of the liquor store C-Vett freaks out, claiming, "That chick stared right at my crotch on the way out. Did you see that?" He's saying this just loud enough that she could hear him and sure enough, she was staring out the window at us as we left with a look of shock. "WOW" factor strikes again.

11:35 a.m. We arrive at my cousin's house, the 8-1-8 as they like to call it, which is easily one of the stupidest things I have ever heard. They will proceed to say it at least twenty more times over the 25 minutes we're here.

11:36 a.m. "You're taking a shot", to which I reply, "No I'm not a big vodka guy." "If you want to stay in the 8-1-8 you will take this shot." This was the start of the 8-1-8 chant that began being repeated by the other nine girls in the house at the moment. I felt like I was two seconds from being sacrificed. The house suddenly reminded me of what Waco, Texas would have been like. There was even red Kool-Aid that I was pressured to try, but refused. I ask her if she is wasted to which she replies, "Shut up, Timmy!" and again this phrase is repeated throughout the whole house and is now subsequently my new nickname.

11:37 a.m. "Is this "shut up, Timmy"," some girl asks as she comes into the kitchen. Apparently I am famous simply because my cousin said this to me on the phone one day, so now I am talked about frequently in this house as, "shut up, Timmy". I would end up meeting more people throughout the day that I had never met but they knew my by the special title.

11:38 a.m. Clayton tells everyone he has a zebra. Major interest ensues. "WOW" factor rises again.

11:45 a.m. I ask when we are leaving - the game starts in a little over an hour. "Oh we'll make it. There's plenty of time." I notice we are basically waiting for one girl to finish her make up. What appears to be a boyfriend is sitting on the couch watching the Clemson-Georgia Tech game. He looks like Brady Quinn on draft day as he slipped to the Browns at No. 22 two years ago.

12:00 p.m. We finally leave. C-Vett and I drive separately from the girls. My cousin calls me and tells me I'm an idiot for driving by ourselves. She's wasted and we haven't even hit tailgating yet. Nice.