Friday, April 30, 2010

Carolina Cup 2010-Who is Mike Scott?

Adrienne and I @ Cup 2010

Few things make me happier than an excuse to wear Lilly. So when I was told that Carolina Cup would basically be one large Lilly-loving, seersucker-wearing frat fest (wasn't there a horse race thrown in somewhere?) I was on it like myself a fat kid on a cupcake. 

9:45 AM:  Halfway to Camden, SC from Charlotte I realized my Cup ticket that I had anxiously awaited in the mail was still sitting on my kitchen counter. Instead of sympathy, my fellow passengers were quick to point out the extent of my stupidity. ( I think "sucks for you" was one of the kinder sentiments.) It was the perfect time to start drinking.

10:10 AM: We drive onto the field. I fork over $45. For a ticket I have already purchased. 

10:30 AM: We arrive at our tent and begin setting up. By "setting up" I mean I sat in the backseat with the heater on while the boys lifted kegs, set up tables, and arranged sandwich platters. They wouldn't even bring me a sandwich when I cracked the window and shouted for "sustenance". Rude. 

10:59 AM: Most of our tent's patrons have arrived. Someone whispers that the boys forgot the mixers. We have cases of Aristocrat vodka and nothing to mix with them but our own saliva. This will not do. 

11:00 AM: Time for a plan. A plan that involves something other than straight grain alcohol burning my esophagus. 

11:01 PM: Four of us decide to take matters into our own hands. Noticing that surrounding tents not only have full bars overflowing with spirits (and mixers), but live bands, dancefloors, and other accoutrements, we realize we need an "in". Every tent has plenty of Lilly-clad ladies. How can we get them to not only pay attention to us but provide us with the sustenance that we so desperately seek?

11:04 PM: Getting distracted, I shout "Look, I'm BLOSSOM!" Every time the brim of my hat blows back in the wind. People stop laughing after the first time, but I will not be silenced.  

Some people just can't appreciate a good Blossom reference.

11:06 PM: Amy (thankfully) tells me to shut up and get focused.  

11:07 AM: I suggest we come up with an imaginary person to ask for at each tent as a way to make conversation. 

11:08 AM: I decide that this imaginary person's name is Mike Scott. Generic, but I actually know someone named Mike Scott, plus I watch The Office. We're covered. 

11:10 AM: First attempt at The Plan. 
Sample conversation:
Me to random frat boy: "Hey, is Mike Scott here?"

Random frat boy: (Scratching head) "Hmmm...Mike Scott....Mike Scott."

Me: (Gathering data based on school colors and fraternity letters) "Well, you are a (insert frat) at (insert Southern school) right?"

Random frat guy: "Yea."

Me: "That is SO WEIRD. He said he'd be right here! I can't believe it."

After less than a minute of my blabbering on and on the guys would get confused and just point us to the bar. 


12:30 PM: Back to the home tent to dig into those sandwich platters. 

12:43 PM: Keefer gets invited to a wristband only tent. Despite being a firstborn child I am a :
1) follower, and 
2) have jealousy issues 
so I naturally have to follow her to try and obtain a wristband. I don't, but I'm able to shovel a few pigs in a blanket and pizza bites into my mouth before I am kindly asked to leave. To which I say, if you are going to go through the trouble of have wristbands you might as well go through the trouble of having quiche. Or a grill. Pizza bites? Puh-lease. 

2:35 PM: On one of our many "fraps" (frat + lap = get it) we stop and make conversation with a nice group of gentleman. (One of them was in a seersucker suit. I couldn't resist). 

2:43 PM: Seersucker suit gentleman and I are making pleasant conversation when he asks if we can "go somewhere more private". I laugh, realize he's not joking, and then have to pretend I was coughing to cover myself. 

Me: (Still laughing/choking): We're in a field. The only place that's private are the porta-potties. 

Seersucker: Whatever works. 

Realizing that's my cue, I give Keefer the signal (aka me yelling "ABORT!") and we literally take off running back to our tent. Did I mention that right before the porta-potty suggestion, Seersucker told me he was 20? 

Amy, Keefer, Me, and Adrienne with some new fratty friends

4:35 PM: Still recovering from the porta-potty incident, we have returned to our tent to replenish with sandwiches, corn hole, and men who are legally able to drink. Might as well end on a high note. 

Dear Carolina Cup 2010,
You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Can't wait to do it again. Minus any conversation involving porta-potties. 

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