Homecoming (for lack of a better title)

Funny story: When I graduated from high school, the school was only like seven years old. Thus, when it was homecoming, there were no elderly people suddenly attending the football game; the eldest Dutch Fork alum would have been around 26. So you can imagine that I had NO FREAKING IDEA why this “homecoming” event and subsequent game was such a big deal. Furman University is 179 years old, so I now understand what a homecoming is; a good thing to, since I just attended Furman’s Homecoming this past weekend.

Hannah and I left the Triangle Friday afternoon, and after a stop at Wendy’s (yay!), beaucoup conversations about life, love, patriotism, “Augustine’s Confessions,” Pat Robertson, and calling almost every Furman person in our cell phones, we ended the four hour drive. I dropped Hannah off, and I headed to my home for the weekend, Brooklyn’s apartment (thanks again Brooklyn, you know you’re my favorite Republican, even before John Mccain, Tucker Carlson, and Arnold Vinick).

Brooklyn and I got our self prepared for the night ahead (i.e. mixed drinks) then made our way to the mall. For all you non-Furman folks, on Homecoming, the main road is covered by carnival rides & food, organizations making floats, and there are people as far as the eye can see. The night was spent riding rides, laughing, running into people I haven’t seen since who knows when, jamming to Florez, and other such fun moments. Gotta say, it was nice being one of the few people in the crowd who actually attended Furman when Alex, Eric, Dana, and Dusty were there, and Alex remembers my name! Eat it freshmen!

Robby, Frosty, Brookie, and I planned to leave the mall, and we did, after we ran into about 76 more people. We didn’t know it, but if we didn’t see someone on the mall, we’d see them downtown at the City Tavern (formerly Tassey’s). Yes, I do mean everyone. The classes of 02 through 05 shut City Tavern down. Then, everyone just kept hanging out…right outside the door of City Tavern. Good times.

Saturday brought a little visit to the University Center where Hannah and I met up with some folks and got free shirts (can’t get enough long sleeve cotton t-shirts, ya know). Then, we went to the psychology department drop-in, which featured former psych majors, the professors, and a 5-month pregnant Nicole B. (formerly, Nicole L.). Someone from our class getting married is one thing, but people getting all pregnant and stuff? When did I get THAT old?

The game: First off, thanks for the free ticket Frosty. Furman vs. Elon was your typical Furman football affair: keys jingling before a punt, the letters F and U screamed many times, people socializing more than watching the game, etc. Even members of SWAC (Students Who Actually Cheer) didn’t seem too into the game. The one exception to the typical affair was the thundersticks, these plastic bat things you blow in to, and then beat together to make a deafening sound. It was a pretty fun 10 seconds, then The Man came and took them away, something about NCAA regulation about noise makers. Still, congrats to the student activities board and their president, the one & only Brad R., for getting an otherwise uninterested student body energized for the game. Oh yeah, we killed Elon, 45-6. FU All the Time!

With the game done, Brooklyn, Robby, Frosty and I went for some good ol’ fashion calzones at Barley’s, then a game of darts upstairs. It was pretty fun, and some of my darts actually made it to the board and not the floor. We then went to the block party downtown, enjoyed the tunes of a Beatles cover band, and rocked out to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” After some of us crashed the Homecoming dance and some of us spent too much cash on a midori sour (grr Hyatt Regency), we stepped on over to Connelly’s. It was basically the same crowd from the night before, only with more people. Seriously, I called Connelly’s “The Fire Hazard” before the night ended, but I had my first Red Bull and Vodka there, so I can’t hate too much. Really, the problem was that people haven’t learned to not stand and look around when they should be going down the stairs.

Eventually we left “The Fire Hazard,” I encouraged Chris & Robert to become the first pasty, white boys of R&B, gave Jodi a hug in the middle of an intersection (there were no cars coming, I think), decided not to pay $5 for a Furman alum’s private party at Corner Pocket, and basically ended the night at Blue Ridge Brewing Company. Now that I write this, it seems like the very end of my Homecoming weekend was a little lackluster, but I loved every minute of it. And don’t worry Brooklyn, next time, we’ll find him.

And now—stealing an idea from Robby’s blog—your moment of zen:




(gay guys get all the hot lady action)