In other fashion news, we have seen more skintight gold pants this weekend than I thought existed. On the Alabama side, lots of houndstooth and fedoras to go with all the red, and quite a few diamond-encrusted, cowboy-booted women.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
BCS = Bizarre Clothing Selections
Or rather, 'clothing.'
Anything above the waist in this pic is body paint. There was a similarly painted Alabama dancer nearby. A couple of doors down, a drag queen was leading a bar in shouts of, "We are ND!" Hopefully Father Hesburgh's handlers weren't taking him out for some air on South Beach this afternoon.
In other fashion news, we have seen more skintight gold pants this weekend than I thought existed. On the Alabama side, lots of houndstooth and fedoras to go with all the red, and quite a few diamond-encrusted, cowboy-booted women.
In other fashion news, we have seen more skintight gold pants this weekend than I thought existed. On the Alabama side, lots of houndstooth and fedoras to go with all the red, and quite a few diamond-encrusted, cowboy-booted women.
Posted with Blogsy
Monday, January 7, 2013
BCS = Bringing Catholics to South Beach
Saturday, January 6
1:00 ish
This town seems ready for us:
I like that Manti looks like he's about to sack McCarron.
Do you think NIU's welcome for the Orange Bowl was this enthusiastic?
2:00 ish
Florida is not considered an intellectual heavyweight state. This is the land of the hanging chad, among other things. Floridians can be quite clever when they apply themselves, though.
Heather and I decided to pay a visit to South Beach, the epicenter of the pre-game festivities. Traffic and parking, while never simple, should probably carry a surgeon general's warning when the area is overrun with ND and Bama fans. After a couple of false starts, and after giving some consideration to a sit-down meal at a swanky restaurant just so we could use their valet, we spotted a small parking garage. We'd driven in before we saw the rates: $40 for up to two hours, $50 for 2-6 hours. Prepaid. Too hard to back out, and truth be told, I think we would have paid twice that to GET OUT OF THE DAMN CAR. And of course we ponied up the extra $10, because we didn't feel like watching the clock. We reminded ourselves that we'd paid $25 each, which we've paid for parking at sporting events, amusement parks, or even city garages. That sounded a lot better. Needless to say, we were determined to stay on South Beach for at least two hours and one minute.
Floridians aren't dumb. They just have different priorities.
Less than two hours, one minute later
It's beginning to feel a lot like the Orange Bowl:
We posed for some pix in the fan experience also. If the ratio of blue and gold to red on South Beach is any indication, I expect ND fans to be in the majority in the stadium.
We also spent some time in a beer tent talking to a random alum from the 60s who showed us pix of his grandson and invited us to his massive tailgater the next time we go out for a game (which, given my track record of returning to campus, could be in fifteen years or so). Every so often, he turned around and called 'borracho!' to a woman behind us who was buying him drinks because she thought he looked like Jack Nicholson. I think borracho pretty much summed it up for him.
1:00 ish
This town seems ready for us:
Do you think NIU's welcome for the Orange Bowl was this enthusiastic?
2:00 ish
Florida is not considered an intellectual heavyweight state. This is the land of the hanging chad, among other things. Floridians can be quite clever when they apply themselves, though.
Heather and I decided to pay a visit to South Beach, the epicenter of the pre-game festivities. Traffic and parking, while never simple, should probably carry a surgeon general's warning when the area is overrun with ND and Bama fans. After a couple of false starts, and after giving some consideration to a sit-down meal at a swanky restaurant just so we could use their valet, we spotted a small parking garage. We'd driven in before we saw the rates: $40 for up to two hours, $50 for 2-6 hours. Prepaid. Too hard to back out, and truth be told, I think we would have paid twice that to GET OUT OF THE DAMN CAR. And of course we ponied up the extra $10, because we didn't feel like watching the clock. We reminded ourselves that we'd paid $25 each, which we've paid for parking at sporting events, amusement parks, or even city garages. That sounded a lot better. Needless to say, we were determined to stay on South Beach for at least two hours and one minute.
Floridians aren't dumb. They just have different priorities.
Less than two hours, one minute later
It's beginning to feel a lot like the Orange Bowl:
Sunday, January 6, 2013
BCS = Best Christmas Surprise
Saturday, January 5
10:30 pm
The elevator at the hotel is slower than my grandfather driving through a Christmas light show. (He REALLY liked to savor the lights.) Before we left for dinner, we let the front desk know our room smelled a bit damp. On our way back in, we were in the elevator with a guy holding Febreze, towels, and a to-do list with our room number on it. He got off on the third floor, dropped the towels off somewhere, and arrived at our fourth floor room, Febreze in hand, at the same time we did. Note to selves: Allow 20 minutes travel time to the breakfast buffet.
9 pm
When I looked over the hotel reservation and started to re-orient myself to Fort Lauderdale, I wondered if the hotel was located near one of our favorite landmarks from our time in South Florida. Every time we took 595 from our place in Plantation into Fort Lauderdale, we could see it from the highway: the mausoleum for the Forest Lawn funeral home. Or, as we reverently called it, The Pyramid of Death. We were not disappointed. It's right across the street.
Hopefully it is not a bad omen for the Irish.
The woman at our hotel check-in brightly inquired whether we are going on a cruise. She looked confused when we told her we're here for the BCS championship game.
8 pm
Lots of BCS signage and welcome goodies at the Fort Lauderdale airport, which appears to have spent much of the last decade under construction, with minimal progress. I rounded a corner into what looked like a mostly-finished shopping area designed to look like a cutesy village and saw this:
As Heather put it on Facebook, "It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize this is an art installation, and not just some sad dude in a strange room." Oh, Florida, I have missed your quirks.
5 pm
The crowd at the gate in Charlotte is sporting a lot of ND blue and gold. I feel like I am traveling incognito because I am not wearing anything with Notre Dame on it. I end up seated next to an older couple wearing everything Bama -- the woman has teased hair, red boots, a prairie skirt, red jacket with Bama boutonnière, and an Alabama diamond watch. I resist the urge to play the fight song, helped by the fact that I have to turn off electronics for takeoff.
Morning
I looked at Mike this morning and said, "I'm probably too old to get away with saying, 'I'm going to the 'SHIP, baby,' aren't I?" Even though I already knew the answer, I was still slightly disappointed when he agreed with me.
In my student days, there were plenty of alums to giggle and roll our eyes at on football weekends. Lots of middle-aged men in plaid pants and ND logos who sometimes wanted to visit their old dorms. I wonder whether the alum stereotype has changed since then. Maybe now the students giggle at people like me, who would not be caught dead in plaid pants, but will be carrying around all the same gadgets they have and trying to act like we're still students.
10:30 pm
The elevator at the hotel is slower than my grandfather driving through a Christmas light show. (He REALLY liked to savor the lights.) Before we left for dinner, we let the front desk know our room smelled a bit damp. On our way back in, we were in the elevator with a guy holding Febreze, towels, and a to-do list with our room number on it. He got off on the third floor, dropped the towels off somewhere, and arrived at our fourth floor room, Febreze in hand, at the same time we did. Note to selves: Allow 20 minutes travel time to the breakfast buffet.
9 pm
When I looked over the hotel reservation and started to re-orient myself to Fort Lauderdale, I wondered if the hotel was located near one of our favorite landmarks from our time in South Florida. Every time we took 595 from our place in Plantation into Fort Lauderdale, we could see it from the highway: the mausoleum for the Forest Lawn funeral home. Or, as we reverently called it, The Pyramid of Death. We were not disappointed. It's right across the street.
Hopefully it is not a bad omen for the Irish.
The woman at our hotel check-in brightly inquired whether we are going on a cruise. She looked confused when we told her we're here for the BCS championship game.
8 pm
Lots of BCS signage and welcome goodies at the Fort Lauderdale airport, which appears to have spent much of the last decade under construction, with minimal progress. I rounded a corner into what looked like a mostly-finished shopping area designed to look like a cutesy village and saw this:
5 pm
The crowd at the gate in Charlotte is sporting a lot of ND blue and gold. I feel like I am traveling incognito because I am not wearing anything with Notre Dame on it. I end up seated next to an older couple wearing everything Bama -- the woman has teased hair, red boots, a prairie skirt, red jacket with Bama boutonnière, and an Alabama diamond watch. I resist the urge to play the fight song, helped by the fact that I have to turn off electronics for takeoff.
Morning
I looked at Mike this morning and said, "I'm probably too old to get away with saying, 'I'm going to the 'SHIP, baby,' aren't I?" Even though I already knew the answer, I was still slightly disappointed when he agreed with me.
In my student days, there were plenty of alums to giggle and roll our eyes at on football weekends. Lots of middle-aged men in plaid pants and ND logos who sometimes wanted to visit their old dorms. I wonder whether the alum stereotype has changed since then. Maybe now the students giggle at people like me, who would not be caught dead in plaid pants, but will be carrying around all the same gadgets they have and trying to act like we're still students.
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