Tailgate Plan to Win: The “John Denver can keep his country roads, Manjorette and West Virginia” Edition

By popular demand (and by that, I mean one request), I will take a look back at one of the scariest road trips of my life. Editor’s Note: This could very well be the most stereotypical prose I’ve ever written.

Last October, I got a lot of funny looks when I told people that I was going to West Virginia for vacation. After having visited West Virginia, I’ll give myself those same looks if I ever decide to go back. What am I thinking – I would have to be in dire circumstances to ever venture there again.

The welcome sign says “A little piece of heaven.” I sure hope heaven’s not anything like that place. The people are frightening, the air is cold and the landscape is void of anything but scary cliffs – especially when the wind is blowing you from side-to-side on a 95 degree incline in a seemingly weightless RV.

Then again, every story has a beginning. Here’s our tale’s starting point.

Andrew Monroe, Frank Buttler and his buddy Jim met me in Douglasville early Wednesday morning at Frank’s crib as we headed northeast on I-85. Pleasantries were exchanged throughout the drive, halted only for gas stops and a bite at Five Guys. The first gas station we stopped at just outside the WV border was…interesting, to say the least. I’ve never seen so many vile comments misspelled on a bathroom stall in my life. Highlighting the ride up to Morgantown was Andrew trying scotch for the first time then licking the couch cushions to rid his mouth of the taste. HI-larious.

But that was only the beginning. Andrew and I had a hotel in downtown Morgantown that night, so we departed the RV after scarfing down some fantastic steaks grilled by Jim. The cab driver had us kissing the ground upon exiting the taxi after our adventurous ride through the sleepy mountain town. The bad driving from the cabby was just a foreshadowing of things to come. There’s not enough bad scotch in the world that will get me into a West Virginia cab again. He made Paul Crane look like a fantastic driver.

Andy Shores and his brother Matt joined us sometime around 3 a.m. in the hotel. Like the good hosts Andrew and I were, we left them to sharing the foldout in the living room portion of the Fairfield “suite” by Marriott. We all know how much Andy enjoys sleeping with dudes, and I know he was ecstatic to enjoy a small space for Matt to escape his advances. Yep, Andy was really getting into the true West Virginia spirit: sleeping with dudes and advancing on his brother.

Thursday morning…game day. Spirits were high amongst the four of us as we ventured around the northern part of the campus. The hotel was a few hundred feet from the stadium, and we all marveled at the fact that we’ve probably seen high school facilities better than those of WVU in Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi. Numerous WVU scholars screamed obscenities and gestured with one finger at us throughout our stroll. Pure class, those ‘Eer fans.

You know the scenes in old Westerns where everything stops when an outsider walks into a bar? You can hear the music halt and the whirl of everyone’s heads as they turn towards the doorway. We had our own experience like this at Mario’s Fishbowl, a Morgantown eatery recommended by the six or seven West Virginians that had Internet access. Considering that we almost died several times thanks to the traffic and bends that were tighter than 90 degrees, the food was less than stellar after the long wait.

It wasn’t all bad, though. We had a lot of laughs when we were passed by a Chevy Blazer with a WVU School of Dentistry sticker across its back windshield. We figured this driver was tops in his class of one and hoped, for his sake, that he charged per mouth and not per tooth operated on in his future endeavors. We went to a bookstore (which was more merchandise than books – remember, we’re talking about West Virginia). We bought some souvenirs. I have no idea where my souvenirs are, nor do I care to find them, today.

When we got back to the RV, it was time to gear up for the game. Brooke Patterson and her family found us and enjoyed the tailgating festivities. We played cornhole with some AU fans and got destroyed by some WVU fans. I’m pretty sure that some WVU “alums” tried to get Brooke to try some moonshine, but I’m a bit fuzzy on that memory.

The ride to the stadium was in one of those half school buses. You have to realize that I went to private schools. We did not have school buses. It was the first time I rode in a yellow chariot since 1992. These are considered luxurious charter buses in Morgantown (or at least that is what we were promised via the MSNetwork when we found the parking lot accommodations for Frank’s RV).

The WVU student population is none too kind to visitors, although some Auburn students had some good comebacks. My favorite two: “You have a dead squirrel on your head. I win.” – Andy Shores and “Just tell them to spell mayonnaise. They can’t do it.” – Random AU student after our 1,000th “F-AUBURN!” greeting by some kid dressed up like a cross between the Joker and Davy Crockett (wasn’t he from Tennessee, by the way?).

The game…well, we won’t go there. It was not good for the Auburn Tigers that night, and I care not to rehash a lot of those memories. Some of the more disparaging facts are that our boys lost to a school whose fanbase cannot spell “Mountaineers” without the help of the endzones (thanks, Old Mountain Lady for confirming that after the game) and a school whose band is highlighted by the talents of a manjorette.

You aren’t reading that incorrectly. They had a manjorette (aka a boy majorette). It was quickly decided amongst our group that he did not grow up in West Virginia (pretty sure the locals wouldn’t approve of his career path or his sexual orientation), but that kid could twirl his baton with the best of the other girls on the dance line. For photographic evidence, I’ll need to get a picture or two from Frank since I have since lost all the pictures I took on this nightmarish journey.

The highlight of all this was that we all got to come back to the Southeast and get away from those banjo-pickin’, Country Road travelin’ hillbillies. John Denver can keep those country roads, and to borrow the famous line from Dumb and Dumber: even in death, he’s still “full of…” Well, you know the rest.

This weekend, the hillbillies invade the Plains. I’d say I hope we show them a better time than what was shown to us, but I’d be lying. I want to give them no reason to ever want to come back to Auburn. Many improvements have been made to campus over the past few years for these folks to soil our campus’ beauty.

Not all WVU alums or natives are bad. Mendy Nestor is one of my favorite people I’ve ever come across, and I’m sure she will be livid if she reads this. You can’t paint a broad picture because of a handful of individuals, but the experience wasn’t great. And the people we came into contact with there were awful.

On to this weekend…

We will have a much more toned down tailgate with around 15 people coming. It’s been hinted that an authentic coonskip cap-wearing WVU former football player will be in attendance, and there is that alluded Amber Gregg Tailgate Haircut Special possibility. I won’t jinx AU’s record when Amber cuts someone’s hair before a game, but just know it’s very good.

Super Rita will prepare a pork tenderloin and some fixins to go along with it. Amongst those expected Saturday are, in no particular order:

* Brad, Amber, Jarrod Gregg (plus one)

* Tammy, Jacob and Tommy Holmes

* Bryan Bowen plus friend and two sons

* Robert Miller and Jeanie

So as you can see, we’re expecting between 15-18 people. Funny how this has grown to where 15-18 is a “low” number…We just gotta do what we do – no assignments for this weekend, just bring what you want. We have plenty of Dr. Pepper, Fanta orange (for All Auburn, All Orange, All Facebook, All Kirk), Pepsi and bottled Cokes. We are low on water supply, so if anyone wants to bring bottled water, it’d be much appreciated.

Watch out for any manjorettes wearing navy blue and maize this weekend, and War Eagle. See you at Jordan-Hare and (hopefully) Toomer’s Corner following the game.

Chris