Tailgating

 

At the ripe old age of 57 I have finally played a drinking game. I didn’t even lose. It is never too late to learn things.

A while ago Lauren and her roommates and friends declared that this past Saturday would be Parent Tailgate Weekend and invited all of us old people up to a tailgate party and a football game. We looked into the football game ticket prices and thought, well, that’s what nearby bars are for, but we were genuinely pleased about the invitation to the tailgate. When your college-student kid asks you to be part of their life like that you have definitely won the parenting lottery for the day. Plus we already like all the parents, roommates, and friends. Also, you can’t go wrong with a tailgate party in Wisconsin. Or a potluck, which is more or less what this is only with slightly more alcohol.

We headed up with chips and brats and libations, since one simply does not come to a party empty handed, and Lauren thoughtfully secured us a parking spot by her building since otherwise we’d have done better to park at home and walk. It was a glorious fall day – brisk and dry – and we had a grand time.

I enjoyed talking with Lauren, her roommates Anita and Aleksia, and any number of others who were there – Katie, Chase, Sam, Rebecca, and others whose names I really should remember except that I’m better with faces. One of the lovely things about having adult children is that their friends are also adults and you can just talk with them. Not that I couldn’t before – Lauren has always had good friends that way. But it is a different feeling.

Two separate people commented on my Wolves hat and asked if I’d seen the game that morning. No, I said, I was grading essays because that’s the kind of wild man I am, and they told me I needed to watch it on replay. I managed to do that on Sunday and it was indeed quite a game. At least three more people made much the same comment over the course of the day and it was fun to be in a place where people recognized the logo.

The tailgate was already in full swing when we got there and we settled in.

And then the games began.

Over the course of my life I somehow was a student at three different universities without ever playing a drinking game. What can I say? I was never the life of the party. But they invited me to play Boom Cup and taught me the rules and I stood next to Anita’s dad and we old guys held our own. I only had to drink once and did not get the Bitch Cup, so rah me. It turns out I’m actually pretty quick at reloading the ping pong ball to bounce it again. Who knew?

They also got up a game of Eye For Eye, which I declined to join on the grounds that the cups for this game were filled with beer, which I do not like. Why they let me live in this state is a mystery, but so far I’ve stuck around for more than a quarter century so I must be doing something right.

Somewhere in there Lauren found us tickets to the game on one of those apps where people resell theirs. Since it was about half an hour before the game the prices were far more reasonable, and this seemed more interesting than sitting in a bar anyway.

One group shot for the road, and off we went.

It was a stinker of a game, but we had a good time anyway. The home team was uncoordinated, outclassed, and – worst of all – boring. But the crowd was fun and the marching band was on point with its Sinatra retrospective. We stayed through the Jump Around part before deciding we’d gotten our money’s worth out of it, and then headed out.

By then the larger group had scattered and we ended up having dinner at a pizza place with Lauren, Aleksia, Chase, Anita, and Anita’s parents, David and Chris. We had a lovely time sharing stories over good food which is all you need out of life I think.

At that point the Anita and her parents headed out and the rest of us ended up at a karaoke bar on campus – the kind of place where the music is loud, the room is packed, the vibe is enthusiastic, and there is nothing to do but relax and enjoy it. People were having a lot of fun with it. Some brave soul did Bohemian Rhapsody and you have to applaud the gumption. We threw our names in, of course – Lauren told the DJ that I was “Dr. Dave,” which I suppose is true after all – and waited toward the back of the narrow room while singer after singer got up and got into it. Audience participation was expected and full-throated. In the end we got up as a group and at various times did Waterloo, Psycho Killer, and 99 Luftballons (in the original German so it was good that they had the lyrics projected in front of us). I didn’t join in the rendition of Levitate as it is a song I don’t know at all, but I did get hauled up on stage by another group and handed a plastic guitar so we could all do The Boys Are Back In Town.

It was a much quieter ride home and eventually I did figure out what I would sing if we ever get back there again. Because you know there has to be a next time, after all.