We went to Manhattan this past weekend to watch the first KSU football game of the season.
I love going back to Manhattan for games. Getting a chance to spend all hours of the night in Aggieville is a bonus.
I love my college friends. I am completely at home around these people. I can really let loose and have fun. They’ve seen me at my best. They’ve seen me at my worst. Nothing is too crazy for them. The highly entertaining stories I will tell my grandchildren will involve these people. I don’t need to worry about impressing anyone when around them. I’m not a mom, or a wife or even a 28 year-old to them. They know me as Julie. The same happy Julie in Aggieville taking whiskey shots in one hand and pictures in the other. A few pictures of some of my favorite people ever.
So…the next day. My single most embarrassing moment ever at a KSU tailgate.
I got hit hard with beer shits.
I find an open port-a-potty (which was a good 10 minute, butt clenching, walk from the tailgate).
The guy walking out tells me I have to hold the chain shut b/c the lock doesn’t work. Great.
I’m doing my business. Then I realize I can’t stop. This is the motherload. I start sweating pretty fast b/c of the lack of ventilation. I am holding on to this rusty chain to keep the door shut with one hand. People are knocking and trying to open the door. It opens about 2-3 inches before I can slam it back screaming NO. I’m trying not to bust into laughter just thinking what I look like. This goes on for about 20 minutes. I am so close to just kicking the door open, letting them see it all and scream at them to find another one.
Instead, I start texting Scott with my other hand.
Me: Worlds largest shit.
Me: Im dying.
Lorle: Take a picture!
Scott: Hurry up, food is ready.
Me: People knocking. Theres a line.
Me: Im sweating. Help me.
Me: On my way.
I open the door. Sure enough. Longest. line. ever. I mouth “sorry” to everyone while somehow avoiding eye contact. I feel sorry for the poor soul that went in there after me. It’s the biggest walk of shame I have ever done. Geez.
I run back to the tailgate. All I see is head shaking from Scott and I hear laughter.
Scott: Here’s your brat.
Dan: Geez, don’t feed her more.
Scott: 20 minutes? Really?
Me: I know. I know. I’m Mexican.
Needless to say, when I come home from the Little Apple, I always have sore abs. It’s always from laughing so hard. It’s non-stop, tears-running-down-your-face-laughter with our group. I’m pretty sure it’s from laughing….could be from bowel movements. Nah, probably laughing.