UT vs. A&M Game '98
Disclaimer: Lots of puking in this story. Read at your own risk.
My senior year of high school, my cousin was a freshman down at UT.
Graciously, he invites me to the UT, A&M game. So we eat Thanksgiving
dinner with the fam in DFW and hightail it down to Austin for some
night-before festivities. We obtained a case of beer, some vodka, whiskey,
sour mix, and other drinking essentials and headed back to the dorms. My
cousin lived in one of the honors dorms, not Crothers, but Andrews I think
it is.... Anyway, they're connected and Andrews has a receptionist or
something by the door... Something like that, I don't go to school there,
I'm not completely sure. Anyway, my cousin gave me the alcohol to walk over
to the Crothers door with while he opened the door from the inside (thus
getting around the receptionist lady person). So of course, as I, an 18
year old high school senior, am walking down the street with an assload of
alcohol, UTPD drives by. Upon seeing me, they come to a dead stop in the
middle of the road about 30 yards in front of me and just start looking at
me. Thank the good lord that my cousin opened the door right as they threw
it into gear to come get me or else I would have been fucked. Well,
drinking in the dorm room ensues. We had about 10 people crammed into that
small ass room. We ran out of beer early and thus began my first and last
experience with sour mix. I had about 5 whiskey sours before turning in.
Now this was while I was still in high school and those of you who knew me
then know what a lightweight I was at the time. I got pretty damn drunk.
This was not the problem however, the problem was the next morning when I
was dry heaving in my cousin's sink. Not pretty folks. All I could taste
was that damn sour mix. I am now convinced that the stuff is the tool of
the devil. Anyway, I manage to drag myself to the game and I'm not feeling
too bad, but damn, I'm hungry. So I, having killed too many brain cells the
night before, decide to buy the nachos. Big mistake. I finish about half
of them and have to run to the bathroom and puke them up. Of course, it
only takes a couple of heaves to get the nachos up, but my stomach spends
the next half hour dry heaving just to get back at me for trying to eat.
So, I eventually get back to the stands; it's the second quarter and I
decide some water would be good for me. Seems like a safe bet huh? Nope,
not 10 minutes after I finish the bottle, I'm back in the bathroom again,
puking up the water. And my stomach, still unhappy with my insolence,
subjugates me to another half hour of dry heaves. By the time I finish, I
can tell it's half time by the number of people in the concession lines and
the band music. I was exhausted from all the dry heaving and didn't feel
like finding my seat again so I did what any rational person would do: I
found a nice comfy flight of stairs to lay down on and feel I asleep. When
I awoke sometime early in the fourth quarter I felt great. It was like it
was all just a bad dream or something. The kicker was when I looked around
though; there were 3 other people sleeping on the same flight of stairs.