Recap

The 9 hours spent in the parking lot on Saturday didn't produce any really great blog stories. There was no Sage sighting (but I do have his cell phone number now..buhahahahaha...) but there was a lot of policemen sightings. In the past, people could drive on the fairly small side road that is found north of the stadium even when there are thousands of people en route to game:

This year, for some reason that the powers that be have yet to share with public at large, they have decided to block the street from vehicular traffic from 2 hours before the game until 1 hour after. Before the game, I just assumed they would use the huge, orange barricades that they had set up along the street. They did but they also had to leave a space wide enough for emergency vehicles to get through. In order to do that and to keep out riff raff, that meant that there had to be a policeman sitting there. I watched this poor guy move his car up and back whenever an ambulance or another police car needed through. He did this for 5 hours straight. He was pretty cute with a lovely build so it added interest to the whole affair but after awhile, I felt sorry for him. Every time he had to get out of the car, he had to readjust his belt and it just looked uncomfortable to be standing around in 80 degree weather, no shade and dressed in polyester. He would let little kids peek inside the car and shake their hands and then the next minute, use his official policeman voice to tell a taxi to turn around.

With my cousin hanging around until the game started and with my sister-in-law and nephew arriving back at the tailgate at half time due to how warm it was in the stadium, I didn't even finish reading my People magazine. Once they had returned, I had the pleasure of accompanying my 5 year old nephew on his first trip to a port-o-potty. When we reached it, I asked if he wanted me to go in with him and he said he did. There wasn't really enough room for two people but thankfully he's only about half the size of a full grown one. He pulls down his pants and proceeds to go while standing up. It is then that the stench hits him and he plugs his nose with both hands while exclaiming how stinky it is in there. At this time, the appendage has become almost like a garden hose gone awry. What does Aunt Murf do since Little A is no longer holding it and it doesn't look like he will release his nose while he is squirming? Direct the appendage by using his shoulders. I did a pretty good job at keeping it where it should go as he is squirming, if I do say so myself.

He also said a very interesting thing to my brother as they headed into the game. Aunt L has smoked for 40+ years but I think she may have been the first one that Little A has ever seen. Before the game, he would watch her. I know from experience that he's the poster boy for the saying 'Little pitchers have big ears'. As he and my brother were heading into the game, they had this back and forth:

Little A: Is it o.k. to smoke if you're old?
P: No. It's bad for you no matter how old you are. Why do you ask?
Little A: I just thought that it was o.k. to smoke if you were old because you're closer to dying anyway.

My brother repeated this story to my aunt after the game. She didn't have another one for the rest of the time we were there.

You may have noticed that I didn't include anything about the game. If you really want to know, Sage is gloating about it, although to give you a clue as to how the game was going, the announcers on the radio station I was listening to did spend about 5 minutes on the proper way of saying 'Appalachian'. Who knew that it was 'Appa-latch-en' and not 'Appa-layshen'. Those wacky Southerners.