Bill's truck pulled into the parking lot and he broke into a large grin. Sitting on the trunk of my car having an adult beverage, I returned the smile. We embraced and the weekend reunion of two great friends began.
"I may as well tell you now," I said after he stood back. "I got bad news."
His face filled with grave concern. "What," he asked.
"We got to find a sports bar tomorrow night," I explained.
"Are you telling me ..." he spit.
"Yep, the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia are playing for the championship and we have to watch it."
"The other week I sent you a picture of me in pink bunny suit and you didn't even respond," he told me. "An hour later I send you a picture of naked people painted blue and red at Fantasy Fest ... no reaction. Then I send you a congratulations on Georgia betting Florida and you immediately come back with 'GO DAWGS!' I see how it is."
"Do you have a point," I asked.
Bill has the incredible misfortune of being poorly raised by really terrific parents. They did everything right except teach him to love college football, especially in the South. He lives in Virginia which used to be in the south but I believe its moved north. That could be the reason.
"I tell you what," I continue as I slap him on the back. "It'll be a really nice sports bar."
Later in the day, we take a break from reminiscing, storytelling and lies so I call Sarah and tell her how Bill's attempts to message me and the lone response I had.
"Welcome to my world," she signed.
"Do you have a point," I lovingly asked her?
For some reason Bill want to know go get Breakfast. I want to go scope out Sports Bars for the game which could put the "Chosen DAWGS of Georgia" back on the throne of the SEC East. It's only 12 hours to kickoff.
He wants breakfast.
Jesus!
