| | When most people go to a football game, they cheer for their team, boo at the ref, maybe eat a pretzel or a hotdog and then go home a little stiff from sitting on cold, metal bleachers for two hours. Not me. That would be too normal and my life has never been confined to the boundaries of normality.
Meredith and I had been sitting around watching movies for most of the day, so we decided since the rain had let up, we should go to the Bison game. It would be our first game as non-students. We were walking through the gates, discussing where to sit, when suddenly, a tall student approached us.
“You guys wanted your faces painted?†the tall student asked.
Merb and I barely skipped a beat as we said “no thank you†and continued walking.
The tall student stepped in front of us.
“Aw come on, it’s free!â€Â
I am sure this reasoning had worked on many a college student, but Merb and I were no longer college students. So we laughed awkwardly and tried to step around him. Merb made it safely, but before I could safely skirt the tall student, he reached out and put his arm around my shoulders and began to steer me towards the face-painting table. I looked up in shock thinking that surely I must know this tall student who was forcefully propelling me towards “school spirit,†but I am quite certain I had never seen him before.
Was he going to put me in some sort of sleeper hold while he tattooed HU across my forehead? Merb followed slowly behind us…close enough to keep an eye on things, but far enough away to avoid the tall student’s other arm and the half nelson that could have awaited her. All the while, the tall student kept talking, explaining the reasons we should wear face-paint. I kept saying “no thanks†but his evangelistic fervor continued until finally someone else asked him a question and I wriggled away from his death hold to freedom. And this all before the opening kick-off.
Shortly after halftime ended, I decided to go use the restroom. I can never remember which side of the concession stand the women’s room is on, so I made sure to read the signs carefully. As I rounded the corner of the bathroom door, I stopped dead in my tracks. There in front of me was a 6-foot tall, green boll weevil, the mascot for the other team.
Now, I don’t know if anyone else has ever happened upon a giant, green boll weevil in a public restroom, but let me be the first to tell you, it is an awkward situation. There was no one else in the bathroom, and I was horrified that I had possibly walked into the men’s room. I walked quickly back outside to make sure I was in the right place. I was. I walked slowly back into the bathroom, hoping that maybe the giant, green boll weevil had disappeared. It had not.
I started at it.
It stared at me.
At this point, I came to three possible conclusions:
1. The giant, green boll weevil was a girl. This, naturally, brought up a whole other set of questions about how she would even be able to use the restroom in such a costume.
2. The giant, green boll weevil was a boy, but because of the limited visibility in the costume, he had misread the sign and ended up in the wrong restroom. If this were true, the poor thing was probably feeling just as awkward and confused as I was.
3. The giant, green boll weevil was a boy. A pervy boy that used his giant, green disguise to sneak into women’s restrooms. If this were true, I next had to decide if the sleeper hold that the tall, face-painted student had used on me earlier could be used on the pervy boll weevil.
I suddenly realized that the giant, green boll weevil and I had been staring at each other for a longer-than-appropriate time.
“Are you, um, in line?†I asked.
It shook its head and moved to the side. As I rushed pass, I realized that I has just solved one of life’s greatest mysteries: Why do girls always go to the bathroom in pairs? Because when dealing with giant, green, potentially pervy boll weevils, there is always safety in numbers.
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| | Posted 9/24/2006 3:00 AM - 81 Views - 6 eProps - 3 comments
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