…and we’re buhaaackuh!

I tried to sleep with the shades open last night, as I refused to set an alarm clock and thought I might wake up to the sun. Unfortunately, the royal blue light from a bank sign on a twenty-story building in downtown Chattanooga insisted on repeatedly hitting my left eye in that exact spot one just can’t ignore as he is trying to sleep. So I had to shut the “total blackout” shades that can frequently be found in luxury hotels. Once I did, it became much easier to sleep.

And sleep I did, almost into the double digits. It was nice.

I woke up, turned down an invitation to attend the Aquarium with some of the students who are dearest to me, and headed to the Starbucks just outside the lobby of our hotel. I drank my coffee, had a piece of blueberry cakestrudelscone and read the paper. I called Russ and wished him a happy birthday two days late and enjoyed the light breeze, 68-degree temperature, and my “I’m not a hobo but I wish I was” hoody.

Off we went to the game. We received a police escort, the first I have ever been a part of in my ten years of basketball games. It struck me, as we entered the parking lot of the arena, how much fun this ride really has been. I have so, so many memories of basketball in particular that I think are really unique. Easily the most memorable have been those of the post-season tournaments.

I remember Albuquerque the first time, which was 1996. I remember spelling “Albuquerque” the first time, which I thought was a good thing to know since I was flying there by myself. That was the site where I became irritated at Raym0nd C@stleberry’s talking and improvising in the middle of a rehearsal we were having outside the hotel. We were on a hillside that was literally on the edge of the desert. I called him down at the end of the rehearsal and he responded to my correction with a bit of lip. I responded to his lip by throwing his flip folder off of the side of the hill. Good thing his pages were loose and there was a nice breeze, as his parts were blown swiftly into the desert like tumbleweed. As long as I am alive, I will remember Raym0nd dropping his horn and chasing his parts like a dog after a pickup truck.

Denver the same year was fun too. There was a bar two blocks from the hotel, and I’m pretty sure they covered their expenses for the month in the five days we were there. Brad, Warren, and I virtually hiked to Golden and took the city bus back. A band member set off the fire alarm in the middle of the night before the game. We lost by just a few to Syracuse. We should have won.

The next year, we played UTC in Charlotte. The band arrived as tip-off was happening due to traffic and incompetence on the part of the venue staff. We would lose the game, and Tubby would flee to UK three weeks later.

And even today, as I was putting on my standard black sweater vest and tie, I was watching the first game of the two-game set at the arena at which we would be playing. Minutes later, I was at the game which I was just watching on tv. Minutes after that, I was in the elevator with this HUGE woman who would be playing against us. Shortly after that, I was actually on the same network that I was watching a few minutes earlier. Not many people get to experience that.

After the game, I led our people back to the bus and stood silently and watched as they loaded the equipment back on the bus for the trip home. I got that lump in my throat again – the same one I had in Tampa. But this one was different. This one was appreciative of the singularly wonderful experiences I have had with these people.

I got on the bus, listened with a giggle to the lighthearted argument over whether to watch a movie or basketball. I handed my pass and a pen to Matt Phillips and told him to sign it and then pass it to the next band member. I counted my people and relaxed in my seat one last time, and watched the arena fade behind us.

We went to the hotel, packed up and hit the road. As we approached I-24, I looked to the west and said, “Hold your horses.” Then I looked to the east, and then to I-75 South with a fondness that will disappear when they bury me.

I am very glad to have been a part of something so fulfilling, and very proud to have been Georgian when I did.