This weekend the undergraduate student body converged upon the Blue Zone for one last gloriously inebriated time. And judging by the number of my friends who could recall exactly what happened, the Georgia Tech Tailgate provided a fitting end to this season's series of raucous pregame celebrations.
Unfortunately, I couldn't tell you anything about Tailgate this weekend. And it's not because I was there. Like every Tailgate before Saturday's, I was not in attendance.
I'm going to repeat that statement again in another way so that it really sinks in. This coming May, I will graduate having never attended a single Tailgate in my Duke tenure. Not a single Tailgate. Not one.
Oh, I've been to the football games. I sat through the entire 45-0 drubbing by Virginia Tech two years ago when the Hokies scored more points than Duke gained in offensive yards. I've even seen Duke defeat an ACC opponent in Wallace Wade. But I've never been to a Tailgate beforehand.
People tell me that you can't explain Tailgate to someone who hasn't been-like it's akin to visiting a Third-World country, but with fewer amenities and less civilized behavior. So my impressions of Tailgate are solely based on what I read on JuicyCampus.com.
In fact, before writing this column, I had to have a friend tell me exactly where Tailgate takes place. For years, I thought the collection of Iron Dukes parked just outside of the stadium were the beer-throwing culprits.
Tailgate has always been a mystery to me. I always assumed that daytime studying (not campus unconsciousness) was the real reason for the eerie silence on the Saturday afternoons of home football games. And I figured the costume-wearing sorority girls that aimlessly roamed Main West after the games were simply the sister group to those secret society guys in black robes and shades who shout incoherencies.
So what have I been doing on those 23 Saturday mornings over the past four years?
Not much. I haven't been trying to make a statement, nor was I detained. I simply never got around to it. Football games are early enough for a Saturday, but Tailgate is absurdly early. Students routinely skip 8:30 a.m. classes but treat 7:00 a.m. Tailgate tip-offs like they're a religious rite. I know fellow Jews who would rather eat pork than miss Tailgate.
I also held a job at the Textbook Store for the better part of my Duke career that required I work most Saturdays. So while most of my friends frolicked in fermented fun, I sold Duke lacrosse gear to the visiting fans who thought they were being hilarious. As if the word "Duke" followed by the word "lacrosse" were a setup and punch line in and of themselves.
"Two guys walk into a bar. Duke. Lacrosse."
But in retrospect, I do regret my indecision to miss Tailgate. It's become another item in a list of many essential Duke affairs I've neglected. In addition to Tailgate, I've never tented for the UNC basketball game, never rushed a fraternity and never double-majored with a minor and two certificates-all common Duke experiences.
So, in my last semester-plus here at Duke, I'm going to work harder not to miss those Duke experiences that would better prepare me for the moment I leave the Gothic bubble. I know my absence at Tailgate has already put me at a detriment for my adult life after Duke.
How will I ever make it in the real world without the skills to blackout before noon and dress like a chicken? I'm going to have serious problems at the company Christmas party.
ZACH BRAFF and Brandon Curl are completing one of the five graduation requirements as you read this. Guess which one.
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