Tuesday around 2:00 PM., my wife and I started our journey to L.A. to check into our Hotel at LAX. The 100 mile trip took almost… no, exactly 4 hours. We live in LaQuinta, which the rest of the world knows as Palm Springs. We misread a flyer we had concerning the Texas Bash Tuesday night. I swear the damn thing said we had to pick up our tickets between 4:00-5:00 PM, or wait until 9:00-10:00PM. Knowing that quite possibly we would get too drunk to make it to 9:00, I thought it in our best interest to go straight to Century Plaza. Being a two year resident of California, I knew the hotel was downtown. So, at 5:00 PM, on a week day, I turned off and headed to downtown L.A.
My wife uttered something about the hotel not being in downtown, but I knew otherwise. 30 minutes later, I pulled over and asked a pedestrian on the side walk, “where’s the Century Plaza Hotel?” “No understand.” I thought to myself, Lovely. Asked police officer 20 minutes after this encounter. Was told to get on IH 10 and head to Beverly Hills. My wife is now on the cell phone asking for directions.
We arrive at Hotel around 6:00 PM. Everything is orange. People are everywhere. There is absolutely nothing but burnt orange. It was beautiful. We valet park. I apologize for open containers and Miller Lite bottles rolling around on the backseat floor board. There is a line to pay the $35 and get wristbands to enter the “bash.” We are given two red tickets, which we later find out can be exchanged for a University Coop bag filled with crap. We have no beer so we head to lobby bar. We meet a nice fellow standing at the bar and buy him a beer. I give the bartender a twenty. He kind of smiles and says, it’s $27. Not amused I swill my beer and head downstairs to pick up my crap. I am now out of beer, so my wife and I head to another bar which is one of many at the “bash” party. Beers are only $6, I am pleased and order 4 bud lights. The bottles look cool, kind of metallic.
There is a souvenir table selling Rose Bowl shirts, hats, key chains, everything. I am pissed because I couldn’t find my hoodie Texas Sweatshirt from last year, so I decide to purchase a new hoodie for $58. I inform the salesperson that the quality of the sweatshirt sucks. He just looks at me and says $58. We are now out of beer. My wife is not happy and heads to outdoor bar to get Miller Lite. She is pissed that no Miller Lite is sold. I receive two Bud Lights from my wife as we head into the main ballroom where highlights of the longhorn season are being shown. A country Band from Austin is playing on the main stage. I suggest to my wife that we should go check into our LAX hotel before we get too drunk. Instead we head to the Century Club down the street. The Century Club is also a venue for the Texas Bash. From what I observed, on any other night, this is a meat market. We walked past the four bouncers with our almost empty Bud Lights. In the lobby of the bar are hundreds of Austin American Statesman Newspapers. I pick one up and see headline about Carol Rylander, current Texas State Comptroller running for Governor as an Independent. I find this interesting because Carol is a family friend. I notice her name is not Rylander anymore, and I wonder to myself, “Christ, how many times has she been married?” We order 4 Miller Lites. I suggest again to my wife that we might want to go check into the hotel. Reluctantly she agrees. We head back to retrieve our car and the big bouncers inform us we can’t leave with our beers. We go back in and shove the beers in my recently purchased hoodie sweatshirt. Upon reaching the street, we crack open a Miller Lite. The Valet parking is $ 20.
We arrive at the hotel. I pop the trunk and get the beer cooler which other than 3 bottles of wine and a bottle of DOM is almost empty. I roll the cooler to the room and my wife brushes her teeth. I do not brush my teeth because I know that Colgate and wine do not mix. I realize that I left my cork screw in the glove compartment and head down to the bar to get one.
My wife and I discuss whether or not we should take a taxi back to Century Plaza over a glass of wine and her last Miller Light. The pros and cons were debated but we finally decided to take a cab. I head downstairs with new glass of wine and ask concierge how much the cab ride will be to Century Plaza. I am told he can get us a flat rate and save us money. The cab would be $45 each way. We head to the hotel bar and grab a couple of drinks for the ride. The driver tells us we can’t bring the drinks. We look at him blankly and get into the cab.
We head back into the big ballroom and order 2 Miller Lites. The room is now very crowded. The same band is playing. I know they are from Austin, but I’m thinking they are not very good. Mostly, I watch this girl who is just dancing on stage. Apparently, she is with the band. Her belly is showing and I’m trying to determine whether or not she is too fat to be dancing. My thoughts are interrupted when the Longhorn Cheerleaders arrive. I am happy. We position ourselves next to the stage knowing the cheerleaders will probably be showcased. The cheerleaders move toward the stage and settle just feet away from us. I comment to my wife they all look so tiny. My wife approaches a cheerleader and says, “how tall are you?” She did not look amused. The guy cheerleaders are twice the size of the little gymnasts. The boy cheerleaders are dancing with the little girls on the dance floor. I think to myself, “this is awesome.”
Although most of the action was in the big ballroom, my wife and I head back to the bar and get a couple of “roadies” for the short journey back to the Century Club. We are informed by a security officer that we can not bring our beers out. We agree to sit down and finish them. The crowd is huge so we slip by security and head down the street only momentarily delayed. We chug our beers so as not to piss off the big bouncers again. Several hours later I am begging my wife to leave. She says she is having fun. I call a cab. My wife is not happy about leaving as I open her door to the cab. Before I give directions for our disposal, she is asleep.
Game Day!
I awake around 7AM and head downstairs for a quadruple latte. The gift shop is open so I buy an L.A. Times and sit in the lobby and read the sports page. I come across an article about Scott Wilson, an old friend of mine from Austin. It’s a whole page about how he is a loyal fan and has been to 28 away and home games. Scott is an attorney, leader of the wild bunch, and one of the most rabid Texas fans you will ever meet. I have slept on his dirty couch many times in Austin. I grinned as I read about the time he was driving to college station for an A&M game and his car caught on fire. He pulled to the side of the road and doused the flames with his beer cooler and caught a ride to the game. This was game day, and Scott just made it big in the L.A. times! This was going to be a great day. I head back up to the room and a guy working on the elevator starts giving me crap about the game. “Why you even showing up?” he says. I just look at him and proclaim that USC is just another Kansas to us without the fat coach.
The hotel room is dark. My wife is still sleeping. I go to my blue beer cooler and pull out the DOM. This is game day. DOM is on the menu.
I have not mentioned to this point that we do not have tickets to the game. No matter, I will get some at the stadium. We drive to Pasadena and park in a public garage that has shuttle service to the game. I have a connection for tickets to the official Texas Exes Tailgate Party via the Tulsa Texas Exes (Thank you Kathryn.) On our way to the tailgate party, we meet a USC college student in line at the port-a-potty. She is weak smacking talking us somewhat. My wife talks to her and somehow together they find out that Elvis, and the two of them have the same birthday. It was good for a free beer at her group’s tailgate party in the parking lot. When the beer was empty, I was done with her. We headed to the Texas Tailgate party knowing it was all the beer we could hammer down.
It was a sea of orange. There were thousands of people at this party. We headed for the beer tent. Cheerfully, we were given 2 bud light cans. My wife made me get my own. For the most part, we just walked around looking for any face I might recognize. In the several hours I was there, I saw no one I knew. We decided we should eat something so we headed over to where alleged Fajitas were being served. They were not good, but required to make it to game time. There were moments of supreme satisfaction this weekend. One of these moments occurred as we walked by the beer truck where beer was being unloaded by the Budweiser guys. I overheard one of the guys say, “have you ever seen this much beer drank?” He was truly dumbfounded. I swelled with Texas pride.
I knew we needed to get serious about looking for game tickets so we loaded up my Texas hoodie jacket with 6 or 7 beers and headed out to the parking lot. It was apparent from almost the first moment I put my peace sign up in the air indicating two tickets were needed, I was in trouble. In an hour, not one person approached me offering to sell tickets… for any price. I was worried. I had $1400 in cash and if I wanted to drink at the game, I would only have around $1200 to spend on tickets. No matter, there were no tickets. Only once did someone approach me. He wanted $2500 each ticket. I was screwed. I resolved to freaking bitch slap the next USC fan, who upon seeing my hand up in the air, yelled “right on, fight on!” Just when things couldn’t get any worse, Tom Arnold came running by with a few groupies following him. All I could think about was, “man, he’s short.” I still can’t believe he did Rosanne, but I digress.
As the pre-game bomber flew over the stadium, several hundred fans without tickets headed to the shuttle buses. I looked over at my wife who with eyes closed, was leaning up against a light (lamp) post. Odd, all I could think about was that Hootie and the Blowfish song. I woke her up and headed back to the car.
Driving down the main Pasadena street, we came across a bar with what appeared to be a Texas Game Watching party. Everyone was jumping up and down. I was looking in the window thinking, “good, I’m not the only one.” I was furiously trying to find the game on the radio. My wife suggested we stopped, but I said something along the lines of not wanting to drink and drive. We headed back to the Marriott to watch the game in their sports bar.
We got lost trying to make it back. By this time my wife wasn’t speaking to me. I kept muttering explicative sentences about a once in a life time game, and I was missing it. I stopped several times in less than desirable neighborhoods trying just to get back to the hotel. The radio had found the game and it was halftime. We parked the car and headed inside to watch the second half. USC fans were all over all over the place. As we entered the bar, we were told no one else could enter as the place was filled to capacity. Is this really freaking happening?!
We drove to another hotel to watch the game. Finally!
I needed chicken wings, the really hot kind. I needed beer. The game was on and I was feeling somewhat better. My wife was still pissed at me. The wings came. They were frozen in the middle. Texas was losing. This is bullsh#t!
We are coming back. Texas is looking good. Vince throws a pass. The pass is incomplete, but they are reviewing it. An idiot in the bar yells, “Fumble!” I tell him he is mistaken (you’re a f’ing idiot.) My wife tells me to shut up. The next few plays we are moving the ball. I yell out “Fumble!” each time. “Queers and Steers,” he says finally. I am about to beat him with his own arm when my wife reminds me that I will miss the remainder of the game. I say nothing. We stop them on forth down. Vince scores. I yell “FUMBLE!” I am drunk. I am happy. I am raising my hook ‘em horns high to the whole bar. I turn to USC Queer boy. He is gone. We are victorious. I am victorious. Freddy Steinmark this is for you! This is for my three little boys! This is for Major! Damnit, this is especially for the Sooners!
I am drunk and tearful. ESPN is on. My wife is asleep. It’s four in the morning. I’ve seen the same highlights several times. I am crying. I wonder what Vince is thinking right now. My wife awakes and looks at me. “Turn off the damn TV!
God bless the University of Texas!
