Cold. Rainy. Downright nasty.
The weather when we got to Norman was just about what I expected for that place. Honestly, it’s the exact weather I envision when I think of the hellhole.
I met Gents at our hotel room Friday night, caught some of the wrestling match, swung through the Wormy Dog to see William Clark Green’s show then back to Campus Corner to show the people of the land how to party.
It was there that we met a *supposedly* past Miss Kansas that also could double as my future wife (call me). We also met a Norman police officer that confessed she was a monstrous Oklahoma State fan.
After a 3 a.m. Whataburger run, we retired for the night with a 7:45 a.m. alarm set.
Armed with a bottle of Jim Beam, we rolled into campus at full force. It was still cold, rainy, nasty.
We met some of Gents’ friends for their tailgate, and I was immediately handed a beer bong full of mimosa and scotch.
Though we were an hour south, I felt like I was home for a minute or two.
We hung there for a bit, then headed for this fireworks display structure that apparently doubled as a football stadium.
While there, we watched our Pokes get overpowered amidst a bombardment of fireworks, flamethrowers and constant in-game entertainment. It felt more like a stage production than a college football game, which was both cool and kind of lame.
We ripped Gundy a new one, hoping he could hear us when he inexplicably let the clock run out at halftime when we were 20 or so yards from field goal range and a 20-17 halftime lead.
We laughed as Sooner fans lost their collective minds because helmet-to-helmet contact is outlawed in any situation according to their made-up rule book.
Oh, and we snuck out when it simply got out of hand, refusing to see OU celebrate another Big 12 Championship as our team walked off the field.
Most of the Sooner fans were great, which is what you hope for since we’re all Oklahomans at the end of the day.
You also had a few bad apples, which is expected for a community of toothless, GED- owning pieces of trailer trash that never came close to actually going to OU.
I was hoping Gundy Badger would come out not giving a single shit, hanging 60 on the JV Oklahoma defense as his moist mullet bounced in the rain, but for some reason, our tail went between our legs during halftime.
I didn’t get enough honey butter on my chicken biscuit, it was kind of hard to find a liquor store and the weather was almost as bad as the cable reception on the south end of Bob Stoops’ double-wide, but all in all, we had as much fun as we could in the worst place on earth.
We’ll get ‘em next year. Go Pokes.