When my aunt and uncle invited me to watch UVA play Duke today from their private, air-conditioned box at Scott Stadium, I naturally said yes. Not because I like football, even remotely. Not because I own an orange, a blue, or an orange & blue item of clothing. Not because it ever pumps me up to see my home team win. I went to the game because I knew my friend Willis would be there in the sun-hammered stands, sitting with the common people, sweating in the 92-degree heat, unable to buy so much as a beer to quench his thirst (they don’t sell alcohol at Scott Stadium – this is the reason you will find a lot of airplane bottles hidden in sundress cleavage at ballgames). Meanwhile I would be in the BOX mingling with wealthy, sophisticated Charlottesvillians who not only didn’t yell “You suck!” when a Cavalier fumbled a play, but who also provided complimentary salmon pate and cupcakes for my lunch. You see why I was excited. This afternoon’s text messages:
Willis: At the stadium give me a call and we will meet at halftime or something.
Wistar: This box is awesome. We”re at goalpost uva team side duke’s endzone. Might not want to leave.
Willis: You suck it’s damn hot out here.
Wistar: I don”t know if i can leave or if u can come up. [This was a lie. I knew I was free to go downstairs because I had made inquiries. I asked my cousin if she had ever left the box to explore the regular stadium. “No,” she said. “Why would I?”)
Willis: I’m in sec 522 what would you like 2 do?
Wistar: Have a good life. I am the one drinking wine & caviar n the ac [Here I took some creative license. It was actually smoked salmon and capers on the buffet table, not caviar. I stood conspicuously in the doorway of the box, hoping that Willis had some binoculars so he could see me drinking my red wine from a goblet.]
Willis: I probably cant come in there you could get back in with your ticket how about you come to my section?
Wistar: Mayb i eat anothr free hot dog now
Willis: You’re the worst and not my friend anymor.
Wistar: Mayb i come c u after this cold beer
Willis: No seriously I hate you.
I went to see him in the stands of course. I stayed for four minutes of the second half. Four real minutes, not four football minutes (an hour). Willis was wearing jeans that were rolled up to his knees. He looked tired and kept wiping the sweat from his eyes. He had taken off his shoes and the tops of his feet were sunburned. For a second, I almost felt bad. Willis went to UVA. He drives from DC to Charlottesville for almost every home game, spending tons of money on hotels, tickets, plastic UVA cups full of soda, etc. He is a true fan. He has probably painted his face before in UVA colors. He probably owns Cavalier underpants. And meanwhile it was all I could do in the box to take my eyes off my sandwich and bottomless cup of cold beer and look at one of the box’s three plasma TVs to figure out which team had the ball. Not to mention I had prime viewing of all the cute hoi polloi babies in tiny cheerleader outfits and UVA t-shirts walking by with their parents below the box. “Look how cute that one is!” I’d say to Darren. “What are you – the baby police?” he’d respond.
Willis, I wish that my box didn’t belong to someone else, and I could have invited you in. 😉 Here is some belated box food for you:
-Hotdogs from silver serving tray, served with tongs, loaded with all your favorite condiments
-Cooler of iced sodas, including Coke Zero which tastes just like Regular Coke
-Cup of chilled gazpacho
-Mini fridge full of Heinekens
U-V-A! WA-HOO-WAH! xo
