We were planning on doing a little grilling on the barbecue and since we had no intention of bringing the gas grill on the deck, necessities would need to be bought and brought for the back-up camp mini Weber Kettle, depending on just what we had laying around. We made the lists and swore that we wouldn't wake up Saturday morning in a panic, as the trip to Fred Meyer would be done and everything would be ready to go come departure time. Easy right? Wrong.
We made the lists Thursday night and were good to go. All we had to do was find the time to get to the store, buy what we didn't have, hit the garage and pack up the things we did. Pretty simple. Only we had a movie we had rented and hadn't watched yet. "We Were Soldiers" it's called. A Vietnam story about men that have gonads so large they make mine look like a cat's bunghole when he's crawling out of a particularly cold creek. We rented it though and by god we were gonna watch it come Friday night.
Friday night, Sarah arrived home from work about the same time my rather conversational brother showed up to see what's been going on in our household and Sarah invited him to stay, eat and watch the movie. As this was the night before the game, I immediately asked her for the list. Oops, she left it at work. Sooo, I set out to make another list while my wife and my brother carried on a conversation and caught looks of disdain when I interrupted, until she saw the looks of panic on my face and started throwing out things I had forgotten in between their sentences. Eventually satisfied that I had left no stone unturned, I set to packing what we did have and resigned myself to the fact that, what with a movie to watch, I was just gonna have to do what we promised each other we wouldn't do, and hit the store for essentials in the morning while Sarah was making herself gorgeous. Movie's good, Sarah cries as she always does when people die in movies, we eat heartily and pretty soon I'm telling my brother to get the hell outta my house, it's time for bed. We have a freaking game tomorrow.
Saturday dawns beautiful and I get up, do my morning routine (read, spend an hour in the head doing the crossword and showering) and I'm off to get Sarah's car washed and on to the store. Everything is a little behind schedule but all in all, not bad. BT's pretty satisfied so far. I even had time to get a Powerball ticket, potentially worth $100 million, that some undeserving A-hole in Pennsylvania eventually won, I'd unknowingly be pissed about that later.
I get back home and Sarah is surprisingly ahead of schedule in her primping which kind of makes me feel happy, as usually she's running behind and I'm being a bastard as a result. This is gonna be a great day. We run through the checklist of items that are needed. Barbecue. Check. Briquettes and lighter fluid. Check. Plates, knives, forks, baby back ribs, beer, wine, baked beans and paper towels. Check. Warm and cool clothes. Check. Folding chairs. Check. Beaver gear applied to the car so no one mistakes our allegiance on the way. Check. By god, we're ready to roll and we're not even that far behind schedule, a minor miracle in itself! BT's feeling real good.
We load the car with all the trimmings that are sure to make this a fantastic day and we are ON THE ROAD, IT'S TIME FOR SOME FOOTBALL! We give each other a kiss as we pull out of the driveway, as it's pretty rare that we go to an OSU game and I'm not stressed about something, really rare as a matter of fact. I probably should mention here that, since it was gameday, I did crack two or three beers before we actually headed for the freeway, as I soon felt the need to, oh what the hell, siphon the python, before we even made it to I-205. "It's okay", I tell my bride, "there's a rest stop just past Wilsonville and from there it's SMOOTH SAILING!" …And it was. Right up until I got past the Hubbard exit. You know the one. It's the one where there isn't another exit until you hit Woodburn. And then it hit me.
"You aren't going to believe this, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO F@@KING BELIEVE THIS!"
"I FORGOT THE F@@KING TICKETS."
"I FORGOT THE F@@KING TICKETS."
Now, imagine the look on her face. It's not quite a smirk as she's too panicked to rub it in, but her lips are definitely upturned a little. I can tell what she's thinking: "I thought I married a smart guy ferchristsakes. Where the hell did I go wrong?" But she continues to refrain from saying anything as she can tell that I am at that point where I just might climb a clock tower and take out the nearest town. I tell her we have to turn around and she looks away and stares straight forward.
My own voice in my head is screaming at me louder than she ever could. "YOU IDIOT! YOU F@@KING IDIOT. WHERE'S THE OFF-RAMP, WHERE'S THE GODDAM OFF-RAMP, WHERE THE HELL IS THAT F@@KING OFF-RAMP??, GODAMMIT, GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT GODDAMMIT!!!" OFF-RAMP, OFF-RAMP, OFF-RAMP, OFF-RAMP, SH!T THERE'S NO OFF-RAMP!!!!!!!! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY MR. BAD DRIVING ASIAN DUDE, I'M IN NO KIND OF MOOD!!!"
She brings me back to reality around the dead-stop traffic at Woodburn. "What are we gonna do? Can we just buy tickets from scalpers? "
"Hmmm…" I think, "That's not a bad idea!" …And then it hits me. "Call 1-800-GO-BEAVS and see if we can get in with our I.D.s!" She calls the number and gets the recording. "They're closed" she says. My heart sinks as my rage increases. "GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT, GODDAMMIT, GODAMMIT, GODDAMMIT!!!!"
"Wait, she says, they're open on gamedays. I'm on hold."
Okay so maybe I won't have a coronary just yet.
Finally, someone comes on the line and she starts telling the story. She starts nodding. She's nodding some more and some more. "Hey, maybe I won't die today!" I start to think. She hangs up. "We can get duplicate tickets for five bucks each", she tells me.
I'm so happy that if we weren't going to a Beaver game I would stop on the side of I-5 and give her all she needs to knock out 15 children. All is right with the world!
Everything is pretty uneventful until we get to our meeting place for the tailgater with ‘Stinks. As we pull in, she asks, "Are you gonna tell them or are we gonna keep it a secret?" I proclaim, "I'll tell them." ..And I do. ‘Stinks immediately starts hooting, "Oh man, this is gonna make the board! THIS IS GONNA MAKE THE BOARD!!" And Debra Joy looks at Sarah. She's still got that half smirk on her face as she proclaims, "I'm glad it happened, he can never bitch about ANYTHING I forget on one of our trips from now on .." And glances back at me.
And it suddenly hits me. I have screwed myself far beyond any football game.