Aggieland

So after we went to our dinner thing on Friday night, we met up with our friend Jamie. She lives in College Station and her boys had an 8 a.m. soccer game the next morning, but she met us anyway. And despite my warnings, she had a new hairstyle with bangs.

However, she doesn’t have my unfortunate cowlick issues, so it totally works for her.

We caught up with Jamie until the waitstaff at Ninfa’s began to sweep under our table to let us know they had better things to do than bring us corn tortillas.

Whatever.

We finally took the not-so-subtle hint and left the restaurant. Jamie headed home, but Gulley and I decided it was our duty to explore some Texas A&M landmarks such as The Dixie Chicken. Granted, we were a little overdressed, but we figured we’d also be the oldest people there so what difference would it make.

And this won’t mean anything to any of y’all that aren’t Aggies, but Northgate is completely different. I mean it has paved parking and parking meters. And even a parking garage. It’s come a long way from a couple of mud lots behind The Chicken.

We walked up to the entrance, optimistically hoping to have to show our ID’s, and the guy working the door looked at us and said, “Y’all are good, I don’t need to see ID”.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

A hint of uncertainty would have been nice.

Once we walked in we saw that everything was EXACTLY the same. The smell, the smoke, the old guy passed out while sitting upright. It’s as if time had stood still.

We walked through just to absorb the ambience that is exactly what you’d expect from a place called The Dixie Chicken. And, we ended up meeting the ESPN crew who were in town to cover the game. One member of the crew was a girl who had recently graduated from University of Kentucky.

We discussed how they had stolen our basketball coach, Billy Gillispie, from us and also her ambitions to marry him and become the mother of his children. She asked us when we graduated from A&M and we countered by asking how old she thought we were.

She took a long, deep breath and said, “Please don’t be offended, but I’m going to say 27”.

Gulley and I were thrilled, until we realized that when you’re 22 you cannot even conceive of an age as high as 35 or 36. I mean, do people even live that long?

And if they do, they certainly don’t do anything other than lug their 18 kids around in a minivan and watch “Matlock”.

We decided it was probably time for us to head home and walked back to the car. We had parked in one of the new lots and put enough change in the parking meter for an hour. I was worried we were pushing the limits of our hour.

Now, I need to give y’all a little history about me.

While I was a student at A&M, parking was a mess. It was like survival of the fittest just to find a spot to park every day.

And yes, I could have taken the shuttle bus, but if you honestly think I’d take public transportation then you haven’t been reading the blog for very long.

Since I was always running late, I usually just had to park wherever I could find a space. Staff parking. Twenty minute parking. University President parking. Wherever.

Let’s just say I might still owe Texas A&M several hundred dollars in parking tickets, unless there is some kind of statute of limitations. I had a complicated relationship with UPD, otherwise known as University Police Department. They were my arch nemesis.

Well, other than the Whataburger taquitos that singlehandedly caused me to gain 20 extra pounds my sophomore year.

The point is that due to my constant parking issues with UPD, I am very sensitive to parking tickets and expired meters.

So, Gulley and I are walking back to the car when I see a policeman standing in the vicinity of my vehicle. I immediately lose my mind and start racing over there to let him know “HERE I AM! PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME A TICKET!”

As Gulley and I round the corner, we get the full view of the policeman that I think is about to give me a ticket.

I’m not sure if it was the mirrored sunglasses or the shorts that gave away the fact that he was, in fact, not UPD, but rather a fraternity boy dressed up for Halloween.

But I’m pretty sure it was the shorts.

They seemed to lack the professional, I’m a University Policeman vibe.

Although the belt and the gun were a nice touch.

Needless to say, Gulley and I collapsed into hysterical laughter. I mean doubled over, can’t breathe laughter. And as soon as we recovered we asked his girlfriend to take a picture of us with him.

As she took the picture we told them that we were former students back for a reunion and the game. The girl squealed “OMIGOSH, y’all are SO CUTE. What are y’all? Like 27?”

I said, “No, we’re 36.”

And I’m not exaggerating when I say she recoiled in horror.

I think she was afraid we’d escaped from the nursing home.

We had so much fun this weekend. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start.

But, if I don’t start somewhere then I’ll just sit here like I’ve been sitting here for the last 2 hours, procrastinating, because I don’t even know how to tell y’all about the weekend.

I think for lack of a better format, I’m going to tell y’all about the weekend in chronological order. Be prepared, it may be a two-parter.

Gulley and I left town at 2 p.m. sharp. We had spent the last week hoping and praying that no one would get sick, and as soon as we checked one last time for fever or illness, we were outta here.

I hate to confess this but I may have burned rubber pulling out of her driveway.

We stopped in San Marcos because I hadn’t eaten lunch and was in need of a little nourishment. So, we pulled through DQ and ordered some fries and Diet Cokes. I handed the girl a fifty dollar bill and she gave me back $4.00 in change.

I do love some fries but $46.00 seemed a little steep.

I told her I had given her $50.00 and she mumbled incoherently as she counted out my real change. Then, as a bonus, she spilled a LARGE Diet Coke all over the side of my car.

Good times.

And not messy at all.

She was fortunate that nothing was going to steal my joy.

We drove on and finally arrived in Bryan. I can’t even explain how long it took for me to unload my clothes out of the car because I realize I have a problem. I don’t need it confirmed here on the internet. Let’s just say Gulley and I could have been stranded for SEVERAL days, possibly weeks, and never had to wear the same thing twice.

I lack what some may call decision-making skills.

We walked into Gulley’s mama’s house and, much to my delight, Nena was there. She wanted to come, watch us get ready and dole out her fashion advice. But since it wasn’t quite time to get ready, we sat and visited for a while.

Nena told us all about this story she had seen on the news about some woman who survived out at sea for NINETEEN DAYS. It seems this woman remembered that most of your body heat escapes from your head so she had tied her bikini top around her head to try to maintain some body heat.

Nena went on and on about this woman surviving NINETEEN DAYS with just her bikini top tied around her head, and finally Big said, “Wow. Nineteen days? That’s incredible. Are you sure?”

And Nena said, “Well, maybe it was just nineteen hours.”

Yes, that would seem more likely.

She also told us a story about a friend of hers that has always been SO BEAUTIFUL. She said, “She was SO BEAUTIFUL that men turned their heads to watch her walk down the street …IN DALLAS.”

It’s no small feat to turn the heads of big city men. That takes some doin’.

We finally started getting ready. And oh what joy to get ready from beginning to end with no interruptions. I didn’t have to stop to wipe anyone’s bottom or open a cheese stick or stick a straw in a juice box. I just curled my hair and listened to the soothing sound of the sizzle that let me know it was going to be a good hair night.

Gulley decided to wear a strapless dress and, once Nena realized this, it became imperative that she wear a “stole” with it. Nena even offered to go home and get her stole so that Gulley could borrow it. I think the very idea that Gulley was going to expose her bare shoulders at Briarcrest Country Club was enough to make Nena reach for her smelling salts.

Gulley told her I had brought a stole for her to wear and she would be properly covered. Nena grabbed me on our way out the door and said, “Make SURE that stole gets worn” as if the very reputation of their family depended on it.

Needless to say, the stole did not get worn.

And I’m only sharing this information because Nena doesn’t have a computer. As Gulley would say, “No one wants to be Nena’s I.T. person.”

Talk about a full-time job.

The next morning Nena called Gulley’s mama to get the report on our evening and the first question she asked was, “Did anyone else have on a strapless dress?” I told her they did and none of them were wearing stoles.

Horrified doesn’t even begin to cover her reaction. You would have thought I told her these girls took off their shoes and ate with their feet.

Anyway, we had a great time Friday night. We saw friends we hadn’t seen in years and got caught up on what everyone has been doing for the last 15 years. I also saw several scrapbooks that contained photos of me with hair that was not a color found in nature and so large it didn’t fit in the picture.

And, I’m embarrassed to admit this, but in one of them I was wearing WHITE hose with FUSCHIA flats and a FUSCHIA dress with a white bow across the top that was bigger than my head.

Which is saying something.

I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t pretty.

And not even a stole would have helped. Unless maybe I wrapped it around my head.

Like that girl did with her bikini top for 19 days at sea.

I’ll be back tomorrow with more reports from the weekend. And pictures!