Tailgating

Im standing here, drenched in the sticky, humid air of a Texas tailgate, my shoulders slumped like a defeated linebacker, and I cant help but feel like the universes worst joke. Its not the beer oh, sure, Ive downed a few, but theyre just liquid regret now, sloshing in my gut. Its not the crowd, either those maroon-clad souls are practically vibrating with pre-game adrenaline, stomping and yelling like theyve already won the damn championship. No, its the game itself. A&M vs. FIU? Thats not a game, thats a cosmic punchline. FIU? Theyre not even on the same planet, let alone the same conference. Ive been here since 2:00 PM, and the suns just now hitting its zenith, painting the sky that shade of burnt umber that says Im not even trying anymore. Im surrounded by people who are still convinced this is a real rivalry, who are still chanting like theyre at a stadium, but Im just standing here, feeling like the mascot of the losing team. Im not even sure if Im supposed to be here. Maybe I shouldve stayed home, curled up with a bad movie and a bowl of popcorn. But no, Im here. Im here because Im supposed to be here. And Im not even sure why. Im just here, sipping my beer, watching the sun beat down on this absurd, sweaty, maroon-colored circus, and Im just here. Im not even sure if Im supposed to be here. Maybe I shouldve stayed home, curled up with a bad movie and a bowl of popcorn. But no, Im here. Im here because Im supposed to be here. And Im not even sure why. Im just here, sipping my beer, watching the sun beat down on this absurd, sweaty, maroon-colored circus, and Im just here.

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