Having three Illini alumni sons, we are always attending some event or another at the University of Illinois campus. This week it was hockey.
The U of I hockey team played Lindenwood last Friday. I don't know where Lindenwood is, but the scoop in the stands was that they recruit mostly from Minnesota and Canada...bad news for our team since those kids are raised on the ice. Not to say that we don't have ice in Illinois in the winter, but we don't have a lot of frozen lakes to skate on and it's not a religion here like it is in more northern areas.
The game went about 2 hours and 45 minutes, which wasn't that bad. The bad part is that my alumni kids like to sit with the students and every single time that happens, in every single venue, it means only one thing for Mom - we're gonna stand the whole time. I've stood in the Orange Krush section for men's basketball, I've stood in the horseshoe for men's football and now I have stood in the cheap seats for men's hockey. Joy.
Standing should not be painful thing. I walk all day, I walk for exercise, I don't consider myself in horrible shape. But something about standing in the same place on concrete for close to three hours - well, it didn't feel too bad then, but today my back was telling me, hey, dummy, wassup with standing so long?
We always go early so we can walk down to Green Street and get some food before whatever we are there for. Friday was no exception. We went into Chipolte's and had a bite before the big game. I had the salad with steak and it was incredibly spicy, but very good. Their guacamole, by the way, was perfection. I would actually have loved to take some home, but couldn't figure a good way to keep it till the game was over. After eating we walked back and then is when the fun began.
The day had been pretty good weather wise - about 44 degrees, a bit of wind but not horrible. In that spirit I wore my orange Illinois t-shirt with my Ron Turner blue Illini jacket over it. I had my gloves, just in case, but I should have dressed more warmly because on the walk back it began to snow and the wind picked up, so that by the time we got to the arena I was frozen.
Once we got inside and had our tickets taken and our hands stamped, we made our way over to our seats, smack dab in the middle of the students. I'm really okay with that other than the standing. I have a lot of kids, I like kids, I feel I'm pretty young at heart and can get along with most kids. I got settled in, and then the fun began.
All around us the kids were like something from a social experiment. The kids directly beside me were more or less well-behaved, with their clothing doing the expressing for them - bursts of teal and pink and yellow from head to toe, including tennis shoes that had to have been designed by them. They didn't have a whole lot to say aloud that I could hear, unlike the kids in front and behind me.
The kids in front of me to the left, one of which had a chief headdress and blue/orange face mask on, had no problem calling the Lindenwood players pussies and (get this) fetus-munchers. It was so unexpected, it was funny. I mean who calls someone a fetus-muncher? It was crazy!
Behind me were two boys and a girl, all of whom had smuggled in rum to pour into their fountain coke drinks. There was much discussion of whether or not they had enough rum in the drinks, then discussion on who would go get more coke 'cause, man, they had used too much rum and couldn't drink it like that. Of course alcohol is forbidden at any college venue, but tell that to a college kid. The problem with these kids were that the more they drank, the louder and sloppier they got. One of the boys in particular yelled profanities at the team, and finally ended up having spittle fly out of his mouth and it fell on my glasses. I was like, huh? Is it raining in here or what? Then I started wondering if any had fallen in my hair. I didn't feel it on purpose - I didn't want to know or to come back with a hand full of spit.
A boy immediately in front of me and to my right yelled the entire time, specifically picking out two players from Lindenwood to harrass. The Lindenwood players all had their names over their numbers on the back of their jerseys except for one player. This kid yelled at him that his mother didn't love him, she didn't even give him a name. All the other kids in the immediate area thought that was hysterical. It was kind of funny, actually.
I spent most of the game watching the action, but I was constantly reminded of how very young the students were. I remember vividly thinking I was very grown up and sophisticated at that age. Now I just think I must have been pretty dumb.
No comments:
Post a Comment