T-shirts that end that phrase as “with a Football Problem” cover the upper halves of many a Louisiana State University student and/or fan. And it’s funny – a play on the community’s great love for the Fighting Tigers and the tailgates that precede their matches.
But when does it become obnoxious?
A few of my lady friends and I ventured to Pensacola, Fla., for Spring Break 2007. We stayed for Monday and Tuesday nights, and were baffled that the bars – nay, the streets – were empty.
Baton Rouge is lucky if its god-fearing residents take Sunday off from drinking. Even then, they’ll probably just wait until sundown, especially since the outdated Blue Laws (no liquor sales on Sundays) were recently repealed.
The party really gets started Thursday night, with ’80s Night at a popular bar and some lucky no-Friday-class students ready to start the weekend.
There is always a party in one of the corporate apartment complexes, and if you go late enough no one will probably notice they have no clue who you are.
I’m sure Sorority Row and the Frat Houses are rockin’ on a regular basis, and the various sections of Tiger Band are probably throwing some sort of shindig even though football season ended three months ago.
Every holiday should be celebrated with booze.
Every victory deserves a toast; every loss must be drowned out.
Maybe this is just college life. I’ve only attended one university, but remember that mine is a consistently top-rated party school. People come here to have fun and get fucked up for four or so years.
But how fucked up is too fucked up?
Offhand comments about shaking off a long, stressful week with many a beer may be incorrectly interpreted. Or maybe I’m just paranoid about my Lil’ Sis thinking I am a bad influence of sorts.
I don’t care for relying on anything other than myself – I’ve been let down way too many times, hurt much too much and had more headaches than I should physically be able to get through.
When the thought of curling up with a bottle of wine after a long week of homework, fraternity business, boyfriend troubles and the usual hubbub sounds like the top solution for multiple weeks in a row, something’s got to give.
Is it le joie de vivre de Louisiane? Is it an inability to deal with stress in a healthy manner, the amount of stress or the content of each individual weight on people’s shoulders?
Give or no give, a release is needed.
Outside of hopping the next plane back to Midwest civilization, a bottle of wine is the next best thing to me.
Or a gallon of ice cream … they’re about the same calorie-wise.