Originally posted in 2006
At the Michigan game this weekend, I was walking back from an 8 hour tailgating session with a friend of mine to a bar where we could watch the game, which was already in progress. We were rounding the corner by the Natatorium Sports Hall and a seemingly nice girl came up to me on the street.
Me: We’re not tickets… we’re humans.
It was playful but nonsensical banter to say the least, right? Just trying to be funny. Faster than I could say, “Gee, I sure hope somebody who is oversensitive will come in and take offense to that last statement,” somebody did. A man, who I assumed to be the aforementioned girl’s boyfriend, accosted me and got all-up-in-my-facial region. The moonlight glistened off his cleanly shaved head. His chin strap-goatee combo was trimmed with surgical precision and his small-sized Abercrombie T-shirt strained against his hulking 168 lb frame.
Shaved head Guy : What the f%*k did you just say to her dude?!?
Me: I said I was not a ticket…but a human, which is just a fact.
Shaved head Guy: (posturing himself to strike me) Don’t tempt me dude, I had a bad day!
This verbal exchange lasted roughly 30 seconds before all parties involved went their separate ways. A bad day was the reason you were going to hit me? I couldn’t help thinking “How bad must his day have been?”
Maybe earlier in the day he under-performed at his collegiate diving event. His reverse one-and-a-half in the pike position didn’t score so well with the judges because the degree of difficulty was too low. I assumed he was on the diving team because that is literally the only reason you should have your head fully shaved in late October, to reduce splash, which the judges hate. Then maybe after his disappointing performance, he went to a tailgate where they only had Miller Lite when he wanted to drink Miller High-Life. This alone would be enough to send any rational person into a bloodthirsty rage.
After he down’s his 6th light beer and loudly boasts “I’m so hammered. I’ve had like 12 beers!” Shaved Head Guy realizes that since drinking light beer is essentially like drinking foamy water, he must answer nature’s call and quickly. But the line for the port-o-potty is too long and he’s too stupid to think of any other option so he just urinates in his pants. The sheer volume of liquid that is expelled from his body completely drenches his trousers. He realizes after his evacuation is complete, that his ticket was in his front pocket, which was the main area of pee-pee saturation. His ticket is now soaked and the ink has run completely off, rendering it useless. Now he has to find another ticket… and new pants.
Craftily, he asks random people on the street, “Can I just use your pants real quick? I’ll give them right back?” even though he does not intend to return them to their rightful owner. The majority of passers-by have a witty retort, something like “I would lend you my pants but it looks like you can’t operate yours properly.”
“Ha, Ha very funny, you…stupids…” he sharply replies and chuckles to himself. His day has been awful up to this point, until one ray of sunshine cuts through the clouds. A girl who is wearing a headband, and is obviously stoned out of her mind, walks up to him wearing a pair of equally soggy britches. Earlier in the day, she drank three “things” of Gatorade in an attempt to cure her cottonmouth but also could not find a place where it was “safe” to pee. “Can I have your pants?” she asks.
“Of course,” he replies as he looks longingly into her bloodshot eyes. They switch into each other’s soiled trousers. While changing, they both take note of each other’s grotesquely misshapen gentiles and instantly fall in love. However, there is no time for that; they need to find some tickets.
As Shaved Head Guy and Headband Girl wander aimlessly about State College, they pass by a homeless man who jokes to his imaginary friends: “Yea…but at least I don’t look like these two butt holes!”
Shaved Head Guy is now enraged at being the focus of a homeless man’s insults and is looking to settle a score “I’m going to beat up the first person who makes any joke,” he thinks to himself.
He walks with her to the Natatorium Sports Hall, fuming with a rage that even his favorite Disturbed song could not contain. They see two good-looking, well-dressed fellows who appear to be on their way to a bar and corner them.
“Tickets?” Headband girl asks.
However, the response is not the one that Shaved Head Guy was looking for. “What does he mean that they’re humans?” and he snaps…
I’ll tell you what being a human is all about, Shaved Head Guy. It’s about being able to deal with a bad day like an adult when you are at an age when it should be expected of you. That’s why I’m a human…and you’re just a ticket…