I lived through the weekend. As much as I thought it would kill me, it did not. The age-old statement still hangs in the balance, "What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." While I'm feeling more sore than strong, it always helps to go through something the first time and just get ‘er done! I was a little apprehensive about my very long day at Razorback stadium on Saturday, but looking at it from this side, it was a piece of cake.
I left the house by noon and started hitting traffic at Johnson, right before the Fayetteville exits start. I got off at MLK and parked at Ayrshire lot and waited for the shuttles to shuttle us off. Now "we" were a sea of black pants, white shirts and probably the only truly sober ones at the stadium five hours before kickoff. Tailgaters were everywhere, and the smell of barbecue was thick. My last vision of tailgaters was an ocean of blue from the Kentucky Rudecats, so seeing the red was a very nice change.
After check-in, all 400 of us headed off to the stadium to get into our places. I was to be placed at a front door outside the Broyles Center; however, our supervisor didn't show up, and we were left to be the stepchildren of a 40-year veteran, J.D. We couldn't find this door that I was suppose to be at, so he left me with the rest of my group ON THE FIELD! That's right; I was on the field with the hog head that the team runs through as they come onto the field. I squealed like a little girl. This was going to be great! I stood beside the hog head as the team ran on the field. I took pictures of Tusk III, the live wild hog mascot in his air-conditioned trailer, and I tried really hard not to yell as we beat Tennessee Tech 44 to 3.
After the game, I was assigned yet another job—holding the door open for the team to enter the Martian room, where family and friends waited to eat with them and have them sign footballs. I saw a guy who had gotten hurt, and I asked his mom what his name was so I could pray for him. You would have thought I told her I was going to bring Jesus in for a healing. She was so grateful and told me his name was Seth. As I headed for the checkout area, the stadium had been emptied, and it had a strange feel to it, like the winning spirit was still thick in the air.
Waiting on the shuttle at gate 1 were the last of the ushers and a few players with girlfriends in tow looking for a ride to wherever. Folks tried to pull the string that requests a stop, but this was the silver shuttle, and it didn't make those kinds of stops. It was taking us to our parking lot, and my feet were very happy to know that. I headed home with the rest of the crazy folks coming back north, who should have stayed in Fayetteville and not have been driving. I got home and unwound some before jumping in bed, and I thought to myself, “Now that Alabama game—it's going to be crazy!”