My Weekend: From Mumbai To Mississippi.
Don’t worry.
I’ll weigh in on Virginia’s Catholic bishops urging the faithful to defeat two of the three garbage constitutional amendments on this year’s ballot. (Hint: I applaud the fact that the bishops finally grew a pair. Make that two pairs.) I’ll also opine on Sydney Sweeney and Greenland.
But not today.
Today we’re talking football.
Travel, actually. Travel TO football.
Every football fan has a game they’ll never forget because they were there.
I was in the stands in Charlottesville in 1990 when the ‘Hoos beat Clemson for the first time. I was in Oxford in October 2014 when Ole Miss knocked off Nick Saban’s Crimson Tide. (Still have the ticket.)
And this weekend, I was in the stands when Ole Miss beat LSU.
Rebel fans had September 19 circled on the calendar ever since Coach Lane Kiffin - that two-faced, narcissistic rat - absconded to Baton Rouge.
Payback was on the menu.
It was hot as Hades in Oxford on Saturday. Temperatures were pushing 100 even at kickoff and the stadium was packed.
Nobody cared.
The atmosphere was electric. The game was thrilling. Ole Miss won 32-24, sealing the deal with an interception in the end zone.
And Lane slunk back to Louisiana to lick his wounds.
Or lick something.
Getting to that game was a little less thrilling.
All I wanted for my birthday was for the family to go with me to Mississippi for the big game. So I made all the arrangements: tickets, a sweet Airbnb, airline reservations, car rental. We left Thursday evening.
Three adults. Two kids. Ages 4 and 18 months.
What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, apparently.
To get to Memphis, we had to fly through Midway in Chicago.
I know. I know.
Our flight out of Norfolk was late. Fortunately, our flight from Chicago was also delayed.
And delayed.
And delayed again.
Instead of landing in Memphis at around 10:30 p.m., we rolled in around 1 a.m.
I was worried about our Budget rental car but their automated 800-number recording had assured me that if I’d given them my flight number - and I had - they stay open and hold cars when flights are delayed.
Of course, Budget was closed when I sprinted up to the counter at 1 a.m.
Avis was still open.
But Avis was fresh out of cars.
No big deal, right? Get an Uber, grab a hotel, come back in the morning.
Did I mention we were traveling with two kids under the age of 5?
Turned out we couldn’t find an Uber or cab big enough for three adults, two children, bags and two car seats. It was 2 a.m.
Eventually, we took separate cabs to an airport hotel.
By then, the expenses were piling up and I had begun hate-Tweeting Budget. That’s a surprisingly effective customer-service strategy, by the way. Companies really don’t like being publicly exposed for lousy customer service.
Sure enough, before long I was talking to someone in Mumbai or somewhere, who assured me this was highly unusual and promised I’d be reimbursed for the hotel and taxis once I get my receipts organized.
I’ll let you know how that works out.
If that was an inauspicious beginning to a long-anticipated weekend, Saturday more than made up for it.
The kids were with a sitter and we joined more than 70,000 of our best friends in Vaught-Hemingway Stadium for one of the most electric college football games I’ve ever experienced.
The frustration. The airport hotel. The taxis. The 2:30 a.m. crackly conversation with India. The 100-degree heat.
Worth it.
Every bit of it.
Because there are some moments you can’t stream, replay or put a price on.
You have to be there.
And I was.
Twenty minutes after the game ended the stands were still packed. No one wanted to leave.
I was wearing red. See me?
