Yesterday we went to the N.C. State/Georgia Tech football game with Jeff and Adriene, Adriene’s parents, and my mom. We knew it was going to be cold – reports were saying scary numbers like “29.” (That’s a scary number to me, so I don’t want to hear anything about how it’s already snowed up north. That’s why I don’t live up north where crazy things like that happen.) And so, we bundled up with longjohns and layers (I personally wore a tank top, a long-sleeved shirt, a wool sweater, a fleece, and my winter coat . . . I also had on longjohns and two pairs of socks. Really the only thing that got cold was my toes. And my nose, I guess. But I’m getting ahead of myself) and bravely tailgated.
At the game, Mike, my mom, and I were seated behind a Tech fan who explained to us that number 21 is, in fact, a god, and that Reggie Ball is an idiot. Apparently this is all we really needed to know about Georgia Tech (we later had it confirmed by Jeff and Adriene, so we had the authentic Tech fan experience). Also, he kept telling Mike all this stuff about how N.C. State could be good if only . . . well, I don’t really know what he said, because I wasn’t listening. We’re not big college football people, and we’re not actually N.C. State fans (at least not primarily), but we didn’t really have the heart to tell him that. So we just pretended to represent N.C. State fans everywhere. I did this by ignoring him, Mike did it by smiling and nodding. At least now he thinks State fans are polite. If he remembers anything at all, that is.
My personal favorite thing that this guy said was when he pointed out two female Tech students who were yelling about something Reggie Ball had done and said, “See? Even the girls know Reggie Ball is an idiot!” Later on, they were cheering something Calvin Johnson did and he said, again, “Even the girls know! Twenty-one!” I turned to Mike and asked whether the guy really just said, “Even the girls know,” because, you know, girls can know about football, too, believe it or not. (I don’t speak from much personal experience here, but I’m getting better. And I was defending the honor of Adriene and Carla Jean. I care, ladies.) Mike said, “A guy who calls a player on his own team named Mohammed ‘a terrorist’ isn’t really focused on . . . equality.” Point taken.
So, back to the temperature. I didn’t have a good hat to wear (my toboggan being light blue and all), so I borrowed a hat from my brother. It was navy blue. Mike borrowed one from my brother that was . . . well, basically, it was awesome. It was fur lined and had ear flaps and was generally very warm. While we were tailgating, I convinced Mike that I should wear it instead, and let me tell you, my head did not get cold. Like I said, really only my toes (and my nose) were cold. I need warmer wool socks. The hat, though, did its job and it did it with an exotic flair. Unfortunately, crazy Russian hats are not exactly a common sight around North Carolina, the land of humidity and mild winters. I got a lot of strange looks and people pointing. Even laughing (those were mostly the drunk people). Let them laugh, I said. I was secure in the knowledge that my hat, though crazy, was secretly awesome. And warm.
And so, I post this picture so that you, too, can enjoy what Jeff called “Comrade Kari.” hee.