Actually, it IS Rocket Science



Booze and Bengals

I completed my undergraduate degree under oaks and arches of the dangerously famous Louisiana State University.  LSU is popular for a few things; Tigers, Death Valley stadium, and tailgating so vehemently brazen that being a successful “Tailgater” is much more of a tribal warrior’s crest than a simple title. …Oh, and, you know, education or some shit.

LSU tailgaters are a rare breed of partiers; they get down to brass tacks.  LSU tailgaters didn’t come here to make friends (unless you brought a case of beer with you).  Alumnus purchase RV’s just so they can tailgate- which means they drive down at least a day before the game and proceed to camp out in one of the multiple vast parking lots and proceed to cook as much incredible food they can muster.  And drink.  With pride.  I walked into someone’s RV once and saw a tower of bottles so highly stacked up that looked like the accumulation of an entire frat party’s consumption, and later learned it was the remnants of two 5o-year-old women’s imbibing from the night before.  And in the process, their intention is to pass the torch on to the next generation.  I watched a man egg on his son to shotgun a beer and literally force his mouth back onto the hole of the can when the guy pulled away (ed. note: I initially wrote “kid” instead of “guy”- but I didn’t mean like some dad encouraging a 1o-year-old to booze it up- I’m sure he was majoring in humanities or some other bullshit major).

This is actually a pretty accurate example of how things work around here, (as well as why we love it and wouldn’t trade it for anything):

I recently spent time with my family who has lived here in California since I’ve known them, and the topic of school rivalries came up.  Someone asked me who LSU’s main rival was, and I initially answered, “Alabama.”

Then I thought for a moment and revised my answer: “Though it might be Auburn…

…Wait, no, Florida.

…Maybe Georgia?”

And I sat there listening to crickets for a solid second or two until I just gave up and said,

“Actually, I think LSU’s biggest rival is whoever they’re playing that weekend.”

And the topic swiftly changed to something less challenging for me to discuss out of politeness.

Guess what, though?  I’m RIGHT!  I looked at some online forums and a few other completely factual websites to see if we do indeed have a “biggest rival” and the truth is?  NOBODY KNOWS.  We just party down the day of the game under the guise that this is our “Biggest Rival To Date.” So beer me, sister, and let’s all knowingly misspell some 1st grade vocabulary words for the sake of Southern solidarity.

Let’s GEAUX Tigers!!

I used to tackle with the thought that because I drank the equivalent of 3/4’s of a six pack on weekend tailgates and other nefarious parties that I was in danger of becoming an alcoholic.  I pitched the idea to a friend once, and she answered with a barrage of questions to help me narrow it down.

“Are you missing class?”

“No.”

“Do you ever show up to class hungover?”

“Maybe twice.”

“Do you ever drink in class?”

“What?!  Who does that?!”

“You’re fine.”

The idea was so unfamiliar to me-smuggling in some alcohol in a concealed container to an actual class.  Until one day when I attended my History of Psychiatry lecture.  The lecture hall, like many, was angled downward to allow those in the back to see the lecturn and so on and so forth.  I usually parked it somewhere in the mid-to-back range, so I wouldn’t be picked out of a lineup of sub-median GPA students, and could therefore remain free from judgment.  We were discussing the intricate process of pre-frontal lobotomies- I was taking notes so frantically and trying to keep up that I almost missed hearing it: from the back of the classroom, a small *tink!* which was proceeded with a whispered, “Fuuuck!”

ATTENTION: There is a protocol for hearing that exact progression of sounds.  It means to immediately lift your bag out from under your desk because you are about to witness a stream of liquid pouring down from the seats above you.

And pour it did.  It’s always kind of interesting to see what variety of drinks wash down- I’ve seen Coca-Cola Classic, what I sincerely hope was lemon-lime Gatorade, and red drink.  You can usually tell by the amount of carbonation. But this time the signifier of the beverage was not merely in its color, which was dark brown in complexion, but its smell, which immediately consumed my nostrils and yelled out, “Who wants another lager??!”

And here’s where I knew I had finally made it as an LSU college student.  Because my first thought wasn’t, “Man, I hope that guy gets some help.”

Instead I thought, “Hm. Is that New Castle?”

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  1. Under my skin « Actually, it IS Rocket Science pingbacked on 6 years, 4 months ago
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Comments

  1. * Patrick says:

    See, I was going to say their biggest rival was Ole Miss…

    | Reply Posted 6 years, 4 months ago


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