Eric Gets Kicked Out of Raymond James Stadium!

This is part 2 of a 4 part short story by Eric and Jenn about the Beef Studs and the University of South Florida soccer and football games!  Part 1 - 3 is in Eric's Archives.  Part 4 is in Jenn's Archives.  Check it out!

So, on a random Friday, I decided to paint my body with a University of South Florida student group and lose my voice at a women’s soccer game.  It was a great warm up for what was going to be the main event for the weekend: getting my body painted, grabbing a cold drink, and screaming my head off at the University of South Florida home football opener!

After having to spend a whole hour in the shower the night before getting paint off of me, I headed up towards the USF campus to get re-painted for that night’s festivity.  Once again, the Beef Studs were nice enough to paint a total stranger who doesn’t even attend their school.  I even got to have a very absurd political discussion with a Beef Stud member “Mumbles” about our conflicting political views.  I have weird political squabbles with people all the time, but having one with a shirtless man who was multitasking by painting my naked body while also sharing his conservative political outlook was an all time high on the awkward scale.  I think FOX News should have a show where Mumbles and I stand naked and paint each other while also disagreeing over the latest political agenda.  It would be the most visually stimulating and uncomfortable show on television.  Guaranteed ratings!

Then I went to work.

If you just thought to yourself: “Wait, you went to your place of employment in full body paint?”

Yes I did! 

That’s what I call dedication to having a good time.  I’m a volleyball coach and a writer; I’m not the President of Sweden.  What’s the big deal about a little body paint on my coaching uniform?

After work was over and the laughter subsided from my co-workers about being covered in green, gold and white paint, I headed home to wait for “el Bing” to get out of her friend’s wedding that she was attending.  I was sitting on the floor (I didn’t want to get paint on our new couches), petting the puppy, drinking a cold beer and watching other college football, when I had this text conversation with el Bing:

El Bing:  THERE IS NO OPEN BAR AT THIS WEDDING!!!  THIS SUCKS!!!  I AM NOT PAYING $8 FOR A DRINK AT MY FRIENDS WEDDING.

Eric Prae:  You know where there is an open bar, my kitchen.  I started without you.

El Bing:  I’ll be leaving here ASAP.

Eric Prae:  Take your time. I have a few more FREE beers to drink!

El Bing:  Who doesn’t have an open bar at a wedding?

Eric Prae:  Obviously your lame ass friend!

El Bing:  HAHAHAHA!  See you in a bit.

 

Let’s take a second and break down the proper “open bar at a wedding” policy.  I love weddings.  They are a great celebration of two people that are so madly in love with each other that they want to bring everyone who matters to them together and have a huge party.  It is an awesome time to see old friends, meet new ones, and share in the excitement and happiness of the newlyweds; as long as said newlyweds follow one simple rule:  hand out as much free booze as possible.

If you are having a wedding, then you are probably expecting people to travel a great distance to see you, pay for an expensive gift to give you, and blow a whole Saturday celebrating your happiness.  Think of all the work that your family members did to help plan this gala of merriment.  Think of all the work your best man/maid of honor did to prepare a speech about your long lasting friendship.  Think of all the money that people gave you to help you put this event on.  YOU OWE THEM BOOZE!  LOTS AND LOTS OF BOOZE!

An open bar is the way to say “thank you for giving up a Saturday during football season to sit in some old uncomfortable church in 100 degree weather and then watch me be happy”.  An open bar shows that you understand the sacrifice that people made to make your wedding day a success.  An open bar means people have the freedom to get drunk and hook up.  An open bar means your friends can drink their faces off without worry, because at an open bar EVERYONE drinks their faces off!

If you don’t have an open bar at your wedding, then you’re more than just a douche bag.  You’re an inconsiderate douche bag!

But Eric:  What if I don’t drink?

 That doesn’t mean everyone else can’t drink and have a good time! 

What if I can’t afford an open bar?  They are expensive!

Then skip out on the flowers!  Does your wedding party really need eight matching red and orange tuxedos?  Get cheaper invitations and go get a keg!  We throw out the invitations anyway, tool-bag!

 

Got off on a tangent there, sorry.  Back to the story:

El Bing finely shows up, takes one look at me and keels over laughing.

El Bing:  When did you go paint your body?

Eric Prae:  Before work!  I stopped by the campus this morning.

El Bing:  You went to work in full body paint?

Eric Prae:  You expected less from me?

El Bing:  You’re an idiot!

Then I got this text from my BFF Jenn.

Jenn B.:  HELP!  I am hot, bored, sweaty and need Crown Royal!

Eric Prae:  I am on my way to save you!

This is everything that I packed in my shorts for the game: my ID, $40, and two huge flasks of Crown Royal.  That’s it.  El Bing threw my cell phone in her purse.  I put on my bull hat, grabbed my trusty vuvuzela that I got at the game the night before, and we headed to Raymond James Stadium for the first football Saturday of the year!

It was a beautiful Florida evening as we walked into the stadium a few minutes before kickoff.  We went through security, the ticket gate, and were heading up the escalator towards the student section when all chaos broke out.

While standing on the never ending escalator to get to our section, el Bing and I were high fiving other USF fans, doing USF cheers with the crowd, and just basking in the excitement and enjoyment that only a college football Saturday can bring.  I started blowing my vuvuzela and the crowd started cheering me on!  For just a moment I was Maximus!  I was the center of all attention.  I was at a game with a slamming hot date.  I was VERY happy.  The more I blew my horn the more excited everybody on the escalator got.  So I just kept blowing it.

At the top of the escalator someone put their hands on my chest and started yelling at me.  I instantly got confused.  I looked side to side, no one was there.  Then I looked at el Bing, she was looking down.  I did the same.

Standing in front of me was some four foot tall woman wearing some sort of ushers outfit.  She was yelling at me.  I instantly started giggling.  Some hobbit was trying to communicate with me and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.  She pulled me aside so the crowd could move around us.  I turned on my hearing aids because I couldn’t read her lips since I was Godzilla and she was exceptionally vertically challenged.  This is how I the conversation went as best as I could understand:

Hobbit Usher:  You can’t have the horn!  It’s restricted.

Eric Prae:  Umm, I went through security and it didn’t seem to be a problem. 

She tried to grab it from me.  I then held it above my head where she obviously couldn’t reach for it.  Everyone around me thought this was hysterical.

Eric Prae:  Umm, they gave these out at the USF game last night.  I would really like to keep it.

The crowd started cheering me on again and while also yelling at the Hobbit Usher to leave me alone.  I put the vuvuzela to my lips and once again made my horn ring into the night sky.

The Hobbit Usher finely took her hands off of me and started making a call on her cell phone.  Before she even touched three buttons on her phone, someone else grabbed my arm and pulled me around.

Once again, I looked down.

Some five foot man in street clothes had my arm.  Why was everyone at this game so f-ing short?  What gives anyone the right to put their hands on me like that?  What law did I break to piss everyone off so badly?

Undercover Cop:  You’re fucking out of here buddy!!!

Eric Prae:  What?  What did I do?  Who the hell are you?

The undercover cop said something to me that I totally couldn’t understand, pulled out some badge from under his shirt, and literally put it in my face.  He actually thought he was Will Smith from Bad Boys.  Then his short friend with some horrible blonde man-ponytail came over to “assist in the arrest”.  Was this second guy also a cop?  I have no idea because he never made it clear.  He just smirked with his stupid southern grin and his “I’m never going to ever get laid” man-ponytail and enjoyed my misery.

Eric Prae:  Whoa, wait a minute.  I am getting thrown out for blowing a horn?

Undercover Cop:  You were blowing it in her face (pointing to the Hobbit Usher), you were being disrespectful!

Eric Prae:  How could I have blown it in her face?  She was calling to see if I could keep it!

Undercover Cop:  She was calling to get you thrown out asshole.

I looked over at the lady.  I couldn’t believe she was letting this guy throw me out.  I didn’t say anything nasty to her, I never laid one hand on her (she touched me) and I didn’t blow anything in her face.  I just starred at her in astonishment, giving her my best “come on, you know this is unreasonable” look.  She just walked away and ignored me.

I turned back around and saw el Bing standing there all alone.  Shit, I really didn’t want to leave her there and ruin the game for her also.  Time to change strategies; Time to suck it up, lose my dignity and just get out of the predicament.

I broke away from the undercover police officer and approached the Hobbit Usher.

Eric Prae:  I’m sorry.  I apologize.  I didn’t mean to disrespect you.  I didn’t know horns were illegal.  Again, I am sorry!

I handed her my prize vuvuzela in defeat.  She had won.

Eric Prae:  Again, I’m really sorry.

Then the asshole undercover cop grabbed me once more!  He whipped me around.

Undercover Cop:  Let’s go!

Eric Prae:  What???  I JUST APOLOGIZED INFRONT OF THE WHOLE STADIUM!

Undercover Cop:  I don’t care!  You’re out of here.

At that moment three things became very clear to me: 

1- The Hobbit Usher, Undercover Cop and his man-ponytailed friend “Giggles” were enjoying this tremendously.  No matter what I said or did, I was getting thrown out.

2- I was leaving my date all alone and there was nothing I could do about it.  That really hurt, I really felt bad that my stupidity had such a negative impact on someone I cared about.

3- If Undercover or Giggles searches my pockets and finds the half bottle of Crown Royal I have stashed away, I’m going to get arrested for real.

Undercover and Giggles started pulling me towards the exit ramp.  I took the hat off my head, put it on el Bing and mouthed the words “I’m sorry”.  To me that was code words for: “go find Jenn and have a good time, I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine”. 

We then started walking towards the exit, until we walked right by the exit.

Eric Prae:  Wait, the exit is back there.  Where are you taking me?  Aren’t you just gonna let me go?

Between smirks, Giggles again started giggling.  He was REALLY enjoying this.

Undercover Cop:  We’re taking you to processing.  There is a police station in the bottom of this stadium.

Fuck.  There goes my easy escape.

Eric Prae:  Come on man.  You guys are actually taking pleasure in this.  All I did was blow a horn.  I even apologized profusely to that lady.

Undercover Cop:  YOUR MOUTH IS NOT HELPING YOU RIGHT NOW!!!

Noted.

We went for a 20 minute walk through the bottom of Raymond James Stadium looking for the police station.  All three of us were missing the game.  The other two didn’t seem to care.  Throwing me out was the best thing to ever happen to them.  Giggles couldn’t help but to just smile at me the whole time.  I couldn’t help but watch his pretty man-ponytail flop on the back of his uneducated head as he walked.  Undercover had a Vulcan Death Grip on my arm the whole time.  He acted like I was some gangbanger hiding a Colt .45 in my waist band.

I have never been so mad at myself for sneaking in alcohol somewhere.  All that was going through my head was:  Does this guy even have the authority to throw me out?  I didn’t break any laws!  I’m not drunk.  Why is he enjoying this?  What is up with Giggles ponytail?  I need to find a real cop who can help me.  I have never seen such an abuse of power!  What gave that Hobbit the right to put her hands on me?  What gave Undercover the right to put his hands on me?  Why is he still grabbing me?  This must be why the N.W.A hated the police so much.  Jenn is going to murder me for not successfully delivering her a flask.

But, none of that mattered- simply because I was carrying a flask or seven (who’s counting?).  I just had to take it and hope they didn’t search me.  Even in my state of anger I had the clarity of mind to realize it was time to get resourceful.  I took my off hand, (you know the one that wasn’t being held behind my back by Undercover) and reached in my pocket.  I pulled out my license and handed it to Undercover in some sort of peace offering, hoping he now wouldn’t need to go in my pocket for me.

Undercover Cop:  First smart thing you have done all day!

No Shit.

We got to the police station and he opened the door.  It was pure chaos in there.  About 20 or so uniformed police officers were in a room “processing” a bunch of unruly fans.  One drunken guy was in handcuffs and fighting it.  One girl was bleeding and crying.  Some inebriated idiots were against the back wall being held down.  Another guy was being hauled out in handcuffs.

Eric Prae:  Is that how I am going to be leaving?  Do I really deserve to be here?

Undercover Cop:  Not if you don’t need to be.  Shut up!

I looked at him in disbelief.  All I did was blow a horn!

After I stood in front of all the uniformed officers and got looked over, they put me in a holding cell.  I instantly went to the back corner and started searching the ceiling and walls for cameras.  I needed to make some smart “wardrobe adjustments” if I was going to get out of here with my alcohol intact.  There weren’t any.  I wasn’t being watched electronically.  Advantage Eric Prae.

Then an African American officer in uniform started looking in the window to watch what I was doing.  I stopped everything and sat there silently, stoic.  It was obvious that he had to watch me because they were afraid I was going to do something to myself.  I don’t think he realized that I was afraid that Undercover and Giggles were going to do something to me.

As luck would have it, some commotion broke out in the station room and the officer that was stationed at my holding cell door ran off.  I quickly grabbed both my flasks, pulled them out of my pockets and stuffed them deep in my boxer-briefs.  If they did search me they were going to have to really look deep for my beautiful flasks!  Then I took my shirt that was hanging out of the back of my shorts and put it over my genitalia (my new flask hiding place).  Now, all I had in my pockets was money.

Then I just sat there for what had to be 30 minutes with freezing testicles from my flasks, having deep inner personal dialog like:

Irrational Eric:  I’m never bringing a flask anywhere again!  I hate this place.

Rational Eric:  Shut up!  You will be back here next week with more body paint, more booze and more friends.  This is just a minor setback.

Irrational Eric:  This cop is a douche!  I am going to get his badge number and file a complaint…

Rational Eric:  Shut up!  You just happened to run into the one cop who has a small penis, an authority complex and short-man’s disease.  What are you going to do?  Call his mom?

Irrational Eric:  Come on!  He can’t treat me like this!  I didn’t do anything!  This is America, the land of the FREE.  I have rights!  This is inhumane!

Rational Eric:  Cops do whatever they want, whenever they want.  They were the big bullies in high school who picked on everybody and then couldn’t get into college.  Now they get paid some low salary to “keep the streets safe” and kick retards like you out of a football game because once a bully, always a bully.  You’re lucky this is America!  In some crazy countries they would have taken your hand with the stupid horn.

Irrational Eric:  Damn, I loved that horn.

Rational Eric:  Stop crying, I’ll get you a new one.

Irrational Eric:  My balls are freezing!  I cannot wait to drink this flask!

Rational Eric:  First rational thought you have had.

 

Finally, Undercover opened my holding cell and pulled me out of there.  He escorted me down the hall.  Once again, why was he putting his hands on me?  I shuffled next to him slowly because it is hard to walk with flasks scraping your ball sack.  We got to some sort of exit.  Undercover stood there with my license and started giving me a speech.

Half way through his speech I realized that this might be important and asked him to start over because I couldn’t hear him.  One of these days I am going to have to learn how to hear.

He concluded his speech with the words “citation and it’s really no big deal”.

Ohhh…  Now he is my friend?  It’s no big deal?  Go tell that to el Bing who got left alone.  How about the money that was spent on my ticket to get in the game?  How about the money I spent on parking?  No big deal?  Screw you!

Eric Prae:  So I don’t get my horn back?

Dead silence.  That joke bombed.

Undercover handed me my license, told me I had to leave the property immediately or get arrested.  Then he kicked me out some side door.  He smiled at me as the door slammed.

Eric Prae:  Congrats on winning that pissing contest!

He obviously forgot to give me my citation paperwork.  I walked over to a tree and sat down.  I took out my flask and took a long, sweet sip.  I then laughed as I pictured Undercover and Giggles going home to pleasure themselves to Roadhouse and text each other all night reveling at their impressive victory.

But they would be wrong!  Getting kicked out of Raymond James Stadium was just the beginning of my night.  I still had my ID, $40 and two flasks full of Crown Royal.  I wasn’t just going to go home and cry myself to sleep.  My body was still painted.  It was still early.  I still had chaos to find! 

I started walking toward where el Bing parked the car to meet up with her.  Some random old guy on a bike started chatting me up as we crossed the street.  I told him my current story of hilarity and failure.  He started laughing at me.

Random Old Guy:  Those security guards are assholes!  You want to go to a Tampa Yankees game?

Eric Prae:  Now?

Random Old Guy:  Absolutely, here is a ticket!

He pulled a small crumpled up ticket out of his pocket and handed it to me.

Eric Prae:  Sweet.  I’ll buy you a beer!

There I was standing on the edge of Raymond James Stadium property, still fully painted, with nothing but time, alcohol, a crumpled up free baseball ticket, and a new friend.  My night was just beginning!


For part 3 of this story, check out USF Part 3:  Booze Bums & Baseball!  It is under "Tampa Yankees" in the category archives.
 
 


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