There is no greater rival for the Florida Gators than the dirty dawgs of Georgia.  They owned  us in the 70’s and 80’s.  We’ve owned them since.  And now with the addition of the Urban Transit bus to the Gator Nation,  we will own them for the next decade. 

The trip to Jacksonville is only the second road trip for the bus, but a manageable one at that.  Though UGA fans complain it isn’t a neutral site (it’s a 1.5 hour trip for us and a ~4 hour drive for them) it seemed pretty evenly split in Jax.  We had a full load in the bus on the way over, though the estrogen level was abnormally high.  You would think that would be a great thing, but remember what happens when women get together in large packs, often called a gaggle of gals.  In a bus made for football games with beer, brats, and big screens, the women mixed fruity cocktails and bounced to the beat of Justin Timberlake who has apparently launched a campaign to bring sexy back.  After several bathroom stops we finally hit Duval county. 

We made the trip over  Friday evening arriving to a hero’s welcome.  We pulled in to the valet area of the Hyatt hotel, adjacent to the party headquarters for the fans.  Last week we split the amplifier in order to get more juice out of each set of speakers (interior and exterior).  The result is, in a word, loud.   Aided by the echo of the portico, we led the drunken gator faithful in a thundering cheer before unloading our luggage.

There wasn’t much happening Friday night as the rain dampened the Jacksonville Landing, an outdoor strip on the river with bars and live music.  It was not a big deal as Friday has always been the night for the UGA fans to party, where the Florida fans tend to celebrate after the victory on Saturday.  We spent some time in the hotel bar before tucking in for the night.  We had an early wakeup call coming so we could ensure ourselves a prime spot for a full day of fun.

We woke up on time ready to go.  Joy, Vince, and Lauren stayed at another hotel down the road and called to say they were pulling in.  We were perched up on the 18^th floor, and I must say there was no better feeling than looking down at the bus from a high as it rounded the corner.  Megan and Brooke stayed behind to grab the Hooters wings as we went to setup.  We had purchased a parking pass ahead of time so we were guaranteed a spot.  We hung the pass on the mirror and were waived right in.  However the road just kept getting closer to the stadium.  I showed an attendant the pass and he waved us along further.  There was no doubt we were not in the right lot, but we were closer, and it was now free.  I was able to take the pass back out to the street and scalp it.  Great deal!

We were right on the south side of alltel stadium, nestled between the river and the endzone.  We were able to finagle an end spot to setup our gear.  You should’ve seen the jaws drop as we placed the plasma screen on the side of the bus.  Once again the bus was the center of attention.

We tailgated from about 10am right on through the game.  We had a variety of activities setup.  Megan and Brooke spend much of the day dancing, as there weren’t really any games on that warranted listening to.  Sherrie and company spend the time at (and presumably under) the beer pong table of some UGA fans.  Vince and I enjoyed the beer and wings and played some sort of bean bag toss game with our neighbors.  The world’s largest cocktail party lived up to the hype once again.

Megan and I went to the game along with some others while the majority stayed behind to watch from the comfort of the bus.  Sure, they had a better view at the bus, but we had $4 hot dogs, so of course we win.  Plus it’s an NFL stadium, so there were options like outback steakhouse and other things that have no place in a sports stadium.  Sure, they’re nice, but there should only be dogs, cotton candy, nachos, and peanuts.  That’s it.

Well it was another victory for the Gators, all but sealing a trip to Atlanta later this year for the conference championship game.  But our tailgate was far from over.  It was now dark, and the dance party extended well in to the evening.  We eventually packed up for a ride over to the landing for the after party.  If you’ve ever been to the game, you know there is a pilgrimage the likes of moses and the Israelites heading from the stadium about a mile and a half to the landing.  Vince suggested we offer some Gator fans a ride.  We had the room, and why shouldn’t we give the kids the experience of a lifetime?  Not a moment later a girl stuck out her thumb asking for a ride.  She and her friends were in Gator gear, so we opened the door and invited them in.  Little did I know how many of them there were when I made the offer.  I kept trying to close the door, but they kept coming in.  We had to exercise several of the bus’ school rules including no smoking, no standing in front of the white line, and respecting the driver and your fellow passengers.

We repeated the previous night’s grand entrance through the Hyatt entrance and dropped of our load and found a safe and secure lot to trust the bus to.  We went inside where we were fortunate enough to watch FSU drop to .500 for the year.  Why there were FSU fans in the Hyatt on Florida Georgia weekend is a mystery to me.  But they were there and obnoxious.  That is until the game tying field goal was blocked.  I wonder if anyone has told Bobby Bowden yet.  No need to trouble him with details.

When that game and the USC v UT game wrapped up we headed over to the landing.  I tried to do the math and determined the landing officially made a shitload, charging $10 a head for entrance.  That’s before paying $5 for a draft beer.  Hopefully that went to security, as things have gotten pretty brutal at the event for the previous couple of years.  We were safe and sound on a landing (at the landing!) of the stairway where we had room to dance and a great people watching spot.  We saw some interesting things.  For example,  we witnessed the universal truth that if there is a camera, beer, and rap that two girls will kiss.  And guys will inevitably chant things at them, never satisfied where they leave off.  We were also fortunate to see someone get served.  They recovered nicely, serving their opponent back before it was on.  It was quite the dance-off.

We were also fortunate enough to be visited by one of the most drunk people I’ve ever seen upright.  I’ve had people ask to borrow my phone before, but never my phone battery.  It was very difficult for me to explain that my battery was about 40% larger than his.  He was convinced we could make it fit, but alas he was wrong.  We got some great camera phone shots that will be posted as soon as Joy figures out how to get them out of her phone.  I suggested we simply shake the phone until they fall out, but that hasn’t worked yet.

We ended the weekend with a trip to Denny’s, capping off one of the worst weekends of eating I’ve ever

had the privilege to participate in.  Why is it that things are just better fried?  I don’t know, but they are.  How else has chicken fried steak been so successful? 

So next week is Vandy, and then we have South Carolina and West Carolina at home before heading to FSU and hopefully Atlanta.  We’re not making the trip to Nashville, so we have two weeks for some final adjustments before that grueling final leg of the season.  Vince and I have a great idea for rearranging some of the components and wiring to allow for better plasma storage on road trips as well as game time DJ’ing.  I’ll be sure to post pics and progress reports.  Go Gators!

I just checked our site stats and found we're number 7 in google if you type in "Bernie Machen Needs To Go Home and Have a Beer."  Not sure how popular the keyword is, but obvioulsy someone searched for it.  I'll get the uga blog up later this evening.

Last weekend was the first road trip for the Urban Transit bus.  We all knew she was ready for it, but we were still nervous.  Would the new engine hold up?  Would we be welcomed as conquerors or attacked by natives?  Did we have enough beer? 

We started on the road at about noon on Friday for the roughly six hour drive to Auburn, Alabama.  We were planning to take I-75 up to I-10 and then back roads for a nice scenic drive.  This was our first real experience on the interstate with the bus.  Apparently when the bus hits about 75 mph, a mast is automatically erected on the roof.  Fairies then raise a towering sail designed to catch any cross wind.  After tacking our way along I-10 for a few miles, we decided it was time to hit the back way.  The bus handled much better on the rural highways.

The ride itself was great.  Megan’s good friend and coworker Brooke had gone up to visit family on Wednesday, so she took the TV, chairs, and tents.  That made for a roomy interior.  We brought along another flat panel and the xBox with NCAA football.  We also found a semi-permanent spray paint and stenciled “Stop War Eagle Tigers,” on the stop sign.  It was interesting to watch the thumbs up slowly turn to middle fingers the further North we got on the Florida-Georgia Parkway. 

As with any road trip in the South, it is required you stop for at least one meal at either a non-chain bbq joint with a pig on the sign or a country buffet named after either someone’s grandmother or something equally as “country.”  We were fortunate enough to come across the Trough on the river in Georgia just south of Eufala where we crossed in to Alabama.  You know you’ve found the right restaurant when a record scratches to a halt and everyone looks up at the door with a look as if to say “who the hell’s kin are you?”  We were those people…he ones without overalls, those annoying shirts with fish on them, or plaid.  But as is always the case in the South, we were welcomed in with open arms and mason jars full of sweet tea.  Since we were on the river, we decided to go for the shrimp and grits.  There was just the right amount of cheese in the grits, and the hush puppies were killer.  It was a great stop, topped off with some bananna pudding and a tour of the on-site country store.

It was dark when we neared Auburn, and we found the only thing worse than the interstate was driving the bus through winding two-lane roads you are unfamilar with.  Trying to balance not killing deer with not tipping over is hard.  We finally made it to our destination, which was Brooke's cousin's house.  We were part of about 20 people staying there, in what can only be described as a plantation.  We were placed in the attic which was more than enough room.  Only problem was you had to go through the master bedroom to get to it, which made for some interested navy seal-esque maneuvering.  We also had about 7 kids under 5 in the place to contend with, and a flip-flop thief of a dog.  As horrible as it is to say, I felt like Anne Franke up in that attic, knowing I couldn't come down in the because we didn't know anyone, had to be quiet and still so we didn't wake the kids, and didnt want to walk in on anything in the master bedroom.  The only thing we were missing was a bookcase that doubled as a door, and of course the Gestapo.

Finally game day rolled around.  Though Vince and his BFF Jeremy had staked a spot in the RV lot, we decided to try to get closer to the action.  Auburn has an interesting tradition of allowing anyone to stake their claim at 4pm on Friday.  It is just like the Oklahoma land race, except with much less organization.  We saw several great empty tailgate locations, but they were guarded by cinder blocks, tape, chairs, coolers, or people.  There is an unspoken rule that you don't take someone else's spot which is great, but the people with the prime spots should really be there to enjoy them or give them up to others.

Anyhow, we noticed an oasis completely surrounded by other tailgaters on a grassy, shady hill.  Hats off to the Auburn fans who helped us navigate through the tailgates to get to the middle.  Our dish found a signal through the uprights of two tall pines, and we were in business.  It quickly became evident that Auburn fans had never seen a tailgating machine as lovely as the Urban Transit.  They flocked like mosquitoes to the bug zapper (which I'm sure many own) to see our TV, drool over our keg, and to kiss our feet.  We humored them by allowing them to watch the UGA Vandy game over our shoulders as we ate the hooters wings Megan and Brooke had picked up.  It was a great time!

Our neighbors really made the event great.  To one side we had a group of UF students who had rented an RV for the trip.  That was especially fun since that is what Vince and I and a group of other Gators had done in 2001.  It brought back some great memories.  On the other side, a trio of Gators setup a beer pong table.  We had all the Gator fans sign the roof of the bus, a tradition we’d started the week earlier.  The road was on another side of us, with a really nice and clean portable trailer restroom.  To our rear was the hospitable group of Auburn tailgaters that had helped us to park.  They turned out to be professional tailgaters like us, led by a guy named Joe.  They told us about their site at www.auburntailgaters.com.  What was especially amusing was that their fight song horn was on the same frequency as ours.  You can imagine our surprise when we hit the button expecting to hear beautiful sounds, but were instead bombarded with an evil overture of Tiger pride. 

All was going great.  We had the music pumping, the Bama Ole Miss game in HD, and Gators flocking to the tailgate.  However some of those Gators came pre-lubricated with plenty of beer, which led to a problem.  I’m just going off of what I’m told, so I’ll leave the names out.  One of our Gator Nation kept taunting a group of Tigers a few tailgates over from us.  Apparently he was rude, but it was taken well.  That is, until he made some remarks to one guy’s girlfriend.  What the Gator didn’t know is that the guy was just off the plane back from Iraq.  As his friend later put it, “He was hungry for either p*ssy or death.”  He chose death.

I was in the bus messing with the ipod when I saw the Gator come flying towards the bus.  He was being tackled by a member of our great armed forces.  Everyone around had enough sense to not get involved in the brawl, but rather to try to stop it.  Problem was the Gator’s buddy wanted to be a hero and pulled a knife.  About five tigers, also allegedly war veterans, planted him in the ground while a third Gator got in to the mix.  At least he was smart enough to bring only his fists.  The outnumbered Gators were sent packing by the sober ones in the group of tigers.  They should count their blessings that the cops who were patrolling the tailgate only minutes earlier weren’t still around!

Though this was a blemish on an otherwise great tailgate, it did have a silver lining.  I went over to the Tigers involved in the fight and made sure they knew that the actions of those idiots had nothing to do with us, and in no way represented the average Gator fan.  They were great about it, and accepted our invitation for a beer from the bus.  After talking with them, we were confident the bus was safe out there by itself while we enjoyed the game.

Before we made the walk to the stadium, we were invited by Joe at the Auburn tailgate to come enjoy a gameday tradition.  Their group handed out what looked to be about 100 shots of “hot damn” to the fans.  One of the groups elders quieted the crowd to make what can only be described as a sermon.  I didn’t record the toast, but if I may summarize:

“Last week (when Auburn fell to Arkansas), I felt lower than a whale’s dick.  Today I want to pass that feeling on, and to regain the glory to Jordan-Hare Stadium.  Blah Blah, War Eagle!” 

We yelled “Go Gators” and slammed our shots.  It was a cool experience.  Thanks again to Joe and the group for that!

And then there was the game.  Why do you pass on 3^rd and 2 from the six when you are only down by 2 in the third quarter and your defense is playing great?  Who knows.  Oh well.

The walk back to the tailgate was a long one.  For some reason, Auburn fans focused on shutting down Tebow, with chants of overrated, etc.  I found this especially odd, considering Tebow had three rushes averaging six yards per carry with one touchdown.  Leak deserved the taunts, going only 9 for 17 with 113 measly yards, 1 TD, 1 INT, a “fumble,” and -21 yards “rushing.”

We dragged ourselves back to the house prepared to forgo the stealth walk through the master suite by staying in the bus.  When we parked in the cul-de-sac in front of the estate, we were surprised to see a car running with its lights on parked in front of us.  It was a quiet neighborhood, and it was after 1am.  We peeked in the window to see a guy passed out in the reclined driver’s seat.  The people we stayed with were up and called the cops, because after the knife fight and the beating we took in the stadium, we weren’t about to take our chances waking a drunk.  The guy ended up taking off before the cops arrived, but we did our good deed for the day by getting the tag number.  I’m sure he wasn’t the only drunk on the street that night!  With everyone up, we were able to sleep in the warmth of the house.

The drive back was uneventful.  The bus made it fine, despite one of the exterior speakers trying to jump ship.  We used the washable spray paint to add tears to the Gator on the bus.  We also learned that God hates food, or at least that’s what the people in Alabama and Georgia think.  Sure, we’d expect Chic-fil-a would be closed, but we wanted country cookin, not Mr. Fil-a’s fried goodness.  We passed Aunt Momma’s Kitchen, Terry’s BBQ, The Home of the Cowboy Burger, and several others with no luck.  We ended up settling for a country buffet in Madison, Florida.  The country just happened to be China.  Thankfully they are Godless, and like to eat on Sundays.  Sweet and Sour Chicken was hot and soft, with a good layer of crunch on the outside.  To die for. 

We have a bye week to recover and make some minor tweaks to the bus, and then we face a UGA team in Jax who is coming off a big loss.  We’ll let you know before then where we’ll be.  Go Gators, and f@ck the BCS!

We've all seen the picture of the Native American Chief Iron Eyes Cody with a lone tear rolling down his cheek.  The tired look in his soul, his flowing black hair.  It is the kind of image that touches every man (excluding of course General Custer).  Well I saw something equally as disturbing early Saturday as we pulled the bus in to the parking lot for our weekly tailgating festivities.  A lone bama fan stood atop his truck.  His long mullet fell on his narrow shoulders.  He wore strangler jeans and a tattered Bama jersey.  His face was leathery like the indian's but not from years atop a horse on dusty trails.  No, this guy obviously smoked several cartons of menthols each day in an attempt to escape the pain he must feel. 

 

He yelled to me from high atop his truck.  "Roll Tide!"  I laughed and looked away, but he wouldn't have it.  He had to take it to the next level.  He pointed at the number twleve on his jersey and told me that was how many national championships they had.  I pointed out our last one was more recent, then asked him if the twelve really implied how many teeth he had remaining.  That's when it happened.  A single tear rolled down his dirty face.  It fell from his cheek right in to his can of Old Milwaukee.  The irnoy was overpowering.  His beer was named after the Milwaukee band of the Potawatomi Indians who settled in Wisconson after being thrown from their condos in downtown Chicago sometime in the 1950's.  Both men had struggled equally, though in different ways.  The Bama fan had somehow managed to survive to adulthood amidst incest, hunting rifles, chew, and many other dangers that a young man in Northern Alabama faces everyday.  The Indian chief had seen someone litter.  I can only imagine the pain.  Nevermind...I just read online the Chief Iron Eyes Cody was an actor and not really an indian.  Well screw him and the Bama guy then.

 

Anyhow, we rolled in to the tailgate late, around noon.  The party was already going, and people were standing around our parking spot looking lost without the bus to guide them.  We were late partly because we slept in, and partly because Megan picked up a small fraternity on the way to the tailgate (see pics).  Parking took a little longer with more cars in the lot, but we got there.  Satellite and beer setup now takes about 5 minutes.  We were in business quickly.  This week, since the game was at 3:30p, we decided not to bbq.  Instead we had more donuts than a simpsons episode. 

 

If you recall from the last entry, this week's festivities was set to include a bartender and a dj.  The dance floor, or "parking space" as some called it, was packed.  Joy, who seems to wake up drunk somehow, took full advantage, grinding with any girl that walked by.  I don't say that as a bad thing. 

 

The ivory tower that is our tailgate almost came toppling down.  I looked back from the dance floor to see a uniformed agent had infiltrated our setup.  Upon further investigation, I learned he and his associates were with the state branch of the ATF.  Luckily we were blessed with the precense of two lawyers.  One had enough liquid courage, or faith in the law I suppose, to remind the agents that they were not welcomed on private property and that the precense of alcohal alone was not probable cause.  Well that scared them away, at least until they came back about 15 minutes later to check ID's again.  They told us the University of Florida asked them to check on our lot.  Honestly that was the best honor we could've ever received!  If Bernie Machen, the ultra-conservative University president, thinks our tailgate is over the top, then we must be doing something right!

 

All in all it was a great tailgate.  Not as long as the others since the game time was earlier, but still fun.  We left to go to the game while others stayed behind to watch it at the bus.  As it turned out, they couldn't get the game at the tailgate, and the crew went over to Gator City to watch.  That was especially disappointing for the two ladies that were in the bathroom when the drunken crew left.  They said they returned to the tailgate and it appeared a tornado had gone through.  Everything was left out, except of course for the TV and the grill.  What do those two things have in common you ask?  They both belong to Joy and Vince, who led the hurried clean up, and didn't seem to appreciate the value of the table I spent precious days hand crafting.  Oh well.  Kate and Brooke were good enough to put everything else away.  It was all safe when we returned after the smackdown on Bama for the post game party.  We ordered some pizzas from Italian Gator and watched the OSU game in brilliant HD.  It is interesting to note that we called papa johns who is not 5 blocks from the tailgate, who informed us that they wouldn't make us a pizza. But we could come pick out one from what they had sitting around.  We opted the for less rude Italian Gator who just insisted that adding pepperoni would be the most difficult thing in the world, and that's why they could only do cheese.  I can only imagine the stress of a pizza chef. 

 

As a preface to the story of the drive home, I should mention the Gator fight song car horn vince purchased over a month ago finally came in this week.  We installed it (if by install you mean rested it on the engine under the hood with no actual braces or screws) during the tailgate.  On the way home we let other drivers enjoy its sweet midi tune.  However one car of greasy 16-year-olds wasn't amused.  They did all they could to get away from the bus and the repetitive song, but I was too formitable an opponent.  You see I spent the week in Seattle for business playing on my friend's xBox 360.  We played Need for Speed most wanted, and I used those skills to keep the kids boxed in.  Luckily we caught every light, where they were held hostage to my siren song.  It was quite fun, especially when he reved his engine at me at a light.  I dropped the puppy in nuetral and treated him to the jasper engine's growl.  You could smell the urine as he wet himself.  We won that battle.

 

That's all for this week...I'll try to blog later before the game to give you the story of the Gator Gala, of which the pics are already up.  Go Gators!