I don’t know why we do it to ourselves. It seems like every other weekend we’re forcing Gatlin into the car and making the long 5 hour drive to Starkville. This particular trip was worse than usual because I was still recovering from a freak freeze tag accident from the weekend before. I’ll just say that it involved me flying through the air like I had just slipped on a banana split. But, at least this time, we could let the windows down while blaring Stranglehold without suffocating from the humid Mississippi air. As we pulled into Starkvegas (don’t act like you’ve never called it that) late Friday night, the car’s thermometer read a cool 45 degrees. Football weather had finally decided to show up in the South.
After a quick preview of this year’s basketball team at The Hump Saturday morning, it was time to get over to The Junction and take advantage of this autumn atmosphere.
Even though I was 300 miles from New Orleans, I felt like I was still in south Louisiana as I quickly disposed of jambalaya, shrimp and crab gumbo, and crawfish dip. I then followed a trail of candy like James Woods down to the heart of The Junction where I stumbled upon a makeshift SEC graveyard directly next to our seemingly reserved tailgating spot. With all the hype surrounding this season, we got to share our recent scary stories with a few more folks than usual. After a few are you afraid of the dark stories, the day quickly transitioned to Halloween Eve night. We exited the stadium to find that the combination of the Bulldogs’ 7th win and the toxic fog surrounding our tent had transformed tailgaters into Werewolves of Fever Swamp (including Dr. Beavis/Mr. Webster).
Halloween finally arrived and the biscuits and gravy at Huddle House before the ride back to New Orleans turned out to be more of a treat than a trick. We made it back just in time to prevent seat soiling and began to prepare for the arrival of the Great Pumpkin. In an attempt to entice him to our personal pumpkin patch, we left out a large bowl of acorn squash and tasso bisque, and a poboy stuffed with pulled pork that I brined in apple cider, Steen’s cane syrup BBQ sauce, Munster cheese, and thinly sliced granny smith apples. We made sure to be as “sincere” as we could while watching the Black and Gold take on, well, the Black and Mustard Yellow. Erin even created a runway of pumpkin spice candles to ease his finding of our house. But just like Linus, the anticipation of the Great Pumpkin’s arrival was too much for her. We awoke the next morning, and swiftly ran into the living room. No toys. No candy. Not even a rock. We couldn’t find any evidence of the Great Pumpkin except for a half empty bottle of homemade pumpkin pie vodka. I’m blaming the dog- I knew he doubted the Great Pumpkin’s existence. Just wait until next year, Charlie Brown. You'll see.
After a quick preview of this year’s basketball team at The Hump Saturday morning, it was time to get over to The Junction and take advantage of this autumn atmosphere.
Even though I was 300 miles from New Orleans, I felt like I was still in south Louisiana as I quickly disposed of jambalaya, shrimp and crab gumbo, and crawfish dip. I then followed a trail of candy like James Woods down to the heart of The Junction where I stumbled upon a makeshift SEC graveyard directly next to our seemingly reserved tailgating spot. With all the hype surrounding this season, we got to share our recent scary stories with a few more folks than usual. After a few are you afraid of the dark stories, the day quickly transitioned to Halloween Eve night. We exited the stadium to find that the combination of the Bulldogs’ 7th win and the toxic fog surrounding our tent had transformed tailgaters into Werewolves of Fever Swamp (including Dr. Beavis/Mr. Webster).Halloween finally arrived and the biscuits and gravy at Huddle House before the ride back to New Orleans turned out to be more of a treat than a trick. We made it back just in time to prevent seat soiling and began to prepare for the arrival of the Great Pumpkin. In an attempt to entice him to our personal pumpkin patch, we left out a large bowl of acorn squash and tasso bisque, and a poboy stuffed with pulled pork that I brined in apple cider, Steen’s cane syrup BBQ sauce, Munster cheese, and thinly sliced granny smith apples. We made sure to be as “sincere” as we could while watching the Black and Gold take on, well, the Black and Mustard Yellow. Erin even created a runway of pumpkin spice candles to ease his finding of our house. But just like Linus, the anticipation of the Great Pumpkin’s arrival was too much for her. We awoke the next morning, and swiftly ran into the living room. No toys. No candy. Not even a rock. We couldn’t find any evidence of the Great Pumpkin except for a half empty bottle of homemade pumpkin pie vodka. I’m blaming the dog- I knew he doubted the Great Pumpkin’s existence. Just wait until next year, Charlie Brown. You'll see.
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