3:16 p.m. - 2007-01-24
Betty and the BBQ Incident
We don�t have any professional sports teams here in BigHeadville but that�s OK. We have college sports. We have the Orange Bowl Champions here��L� yeah, I say! �L� yeah for another Cards first down! Yes, it�s true. The BigHeads are not only proud graduates of the University of Louisville (Ed all by himself graduated from there 3 times) but we are the finest of athletic supporters. OK, so humor isn�t one of my better qualities.
We could have gotten tickets to the Orange Bowl but I had to go all adult on Ed and tell him how I couldn�t take the time from work and the tadpoles couldn�t really miss school and how we had to be financially responsible and we had just spent too much money on the trip to Seattle and how we could save and plan for next year because they would probably go to the BCS Championship Bowl and, and, and I was really sad that we didn�t use the magic card and go.
We did go downtown to the Orange Bowl Celebration last Friday. Tadpole #4 and her friend K went with us. We got there early and found a spot along the Cardinal Walk and got high 5�s from the players as they walked in from the bus. Now, you have to understand that it is #4�s and K�s goal in life to be recognized by the BBQ Himself (Big Blond Quarterback--Brian Brohm). Alas, no BBQ in the Cardinal Walk. He had just had surgery on his shoulder, so maybe Coach K didn�t want him getting hurt or maybe they were afraid the large crowd of teenaged girls would sack him and take what they could grab. Anyway, BBQ appeared on stage and gave a much cheered speech then promptly disappeared again. When the pep rally was over we walked to the Old Spaghetti Factory for dinner. We saw the Cardinal Busses and in front of them was a police SUV with its lights flashing. �Wow� said Ed �They�ve got their own police escort.� When we passed by it was none other than BBQ sitting in the front seat looking out the window. #4 and K started to jump up and down and scream like nothing I have ever heard before�there was only 2 feet of sidewalk and a glass window between them and pure handsomeness. He flashed them a smile and a chuckle. They couldn�t stop smiling the rest of the way down Liberty Street to the crossing light. While we were standing there the caravan started making its way down the street. Again, the one and only BBQ passed right before our eyes. The girls waved at him and he smiled again and waved back. Talk about hysteria. More screaming, more jumping, more hugging and more breathless comments like �Oh my God, Oh my God!� and �I can�t believe it, He looked right at us!� and �He waved to us! He waved to us!� All through dinner they kept giving each other the BBQ wave. Ah, the magic of being a 15 year old.
I remember my crush at 15. I went to a Chicago concert and the bass player, Peter Cetera, came out on stage in a white jump suit with a white sparkly guitar riding low on his hip and sang �If You Leave Me Now.� Did I tell you that the jumpsuit was very tight? I thought I was going to die. I couldn�t breathe. My temperature must have gone up to about 105 degrees. I stood up on my seat, threw my arms into the air and screamed for all I was worth. Did I mention the tight jumpsuit? The white one? With the very large package that I could see when he turned just the right way? Oh my God, oh my God�if it looked that good covered with a jumpsuit, just imagine it in all it�s glory naked. I wonder what ever happened to Peter Cetera and if he realized the affect he had on the girls in the audience? Well, maybe not him but at least his package. Memories, memories, memories�
