Decadent Depravity of College Football

Decadent Depravity of College Football

Classic City Gonzo Journalism ~ My tribute to the sports writing of the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson:

Vance eye “G” by Egede

Asleep facedown in the greenery of the woods, near where the initiators remain immortalized for founding the first state-chartered public university in this great nation, the fear and loathing sets in upon this UGA Presidential Scholar. I don’t have my phone or my hat. That was a nice hat. The phone has insurance, but certainly won’t be replaced today, and I appear to be well separated from my traveling party.

Cheering, loud cheering and barking, emanating from me, and the sun was getting to me as I realized I wasn’t finding my friends inside the game again. It’s generally okay to slip away and return, on a normal football game Saturday, because that is a ticketed event. If your wits are so diminished: deeply drowned in dark alcohol and aggressive football adrenaline, in the sexuality of sauntering scantily clad coeds. If the sun is getting to you, you can take a break for concession or bathroom or shade and consult your ticket stub for evidence of where you may be sitting. Not today.

I couldn’t make my way back. I watched some more. Cheered some more. Walked here. Threw up. Laid the fuck down in the shade. Okay, if I move now I will feel worse and will still have to deal with this predicament, so I’m sleeping for. No, I’ll get up. Walking. That looks like some cuddly shrubbery and my head still swims.

If I sleep for thirty more minutes, I’ll be able to deal. Love this part of campus, these woods. My stepbrother has left work by now but said the catering gig is off. He may be reachable. Worst-case scenario: I could just sleep here all night and then when he gets into work in the morning have him put me on the Greyhound. I have to be at work in Buckhead by 1:00 PM, but I could at least find out the bus schedule by then and see if that will work out. If I’m stuck, I’m stuck. And I could always walk down Pulaski Street to Steve-O’s and at the very least safely sleep on his porch. The old ‘hood is not far from here or the station or my stepbro’s work. I’m going to be okay.

I feel fine, almost, as I approach the counter girl at the resto downtown. “I’m Ty’s stepbrother. I need you to get him on the phone and tell him I lost my phone and am separated from my friends and stuck in Athens and need his help, and I’d like a Cheerwine to drink please.”

“Ty’s on the phone,” she says, later. I’m asleep at a table in front of the business. “Do you need me to drive you to Atlanta?” He asks.

“Nah, a Greyhound should be good if they are still running today. If not, a Greyhound tomorrow and I may need a place to stay and to make a few phone calls. I’m fucked!”

“I know. That’s Athens for you. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. There is a shuttle from Holiday Inn to the airport if Greyhound is gone.”

“That would totally work. I can MARTA it home from there.”