You see that photo above? That was me and my friends being idiot college kids at OU/Texas seven years ago. I was but a wee freshman, and this was my first trip to the Red River Rivalry free from the watchful eye of attending with my parents. Notice how we're all posing for this drunken picture in a shower at the Sheraton hotel, with our solo cups and silly hand signs and crimson attire. I can pretty much guarantee Soulja Boy or Eli Young was playing in the background from an iPod playlist or mixed CD that someone made special for this very occasion.
Things have changed a lot since then. Nowadays, my idea of a big night usually means take-out from P.F. Changs and an OnDemand movie. No one warned me about the rapid rate you age in the years between 23 and 25. While I hung tough my first post-grad year and again experienced the OU/Texas I had come to love, two years after I felt out-of-place and adrift on McKinney Street, and last year I cut my losses and cried into my chili watched the game with friends in my backyard.
I thought it'd be both fun and depressing to do a little retrospective analysis and map out what my OU/Texas weekend looked like in college vs. what is probably going to go down this weekend. Here goes.
Friday, 10:00 am
Then: Roll over in bed and fumble around for a glass of water and some Advil. Damnit, why did I drink that extra LIT last night at Suger's?
Now: Spreadsheet. I'm spreadsheeting. Hehe, spreadsheet--wonder if Cosmopolitan has created a position called "The Spreadsheet" yet.
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Friday, 10:07 am
Then: Spring out of bed and get dressed. God, I feel wonderful! If I hurry up and eat lunch, I'll have enough time to run 3-4 miles, shower, and pack before we leave for Dallas!
Now: Nothing interesting on Cosmo's website. Wonder if it's someone's birthday today? Mosey to the breakroom in hopes of finding a cookie cake.
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Friday, noon
Then: Pick up friends then head to Classic's. Southbound roadtrips should always start with a Sprittle or an Eskimo Frosty.
Now: Spreadsheets. Maybe I should make a grocery list on a spreadsheet. Bread, rotisserie chicken, humus, apples...
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Friday, 2:00 pm
Then: ROCK ME MAMA LIKE A WAGON WHEEL--OMG look, a car full of Lambdas!
Now: Face wash. I need to add face wash to my grocery list.
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Friday, 3:30 pm
Then: Pull in to Northpark mall for a very quick check in Urban Outfitters. Gotta find something totally chic and unique to wear tonight!
Now: Complete 5th Buzzfeed quiz of the day. Beam in the new-found knowledge that I should be Jennifer Lawrence's BFF, move to California, belong to Slytherin house, share an apartment with Lena Dunham, and date Harry Styles.
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Friday, 5:30 pm
Then: Finish at Urban and move on to H&M. Overbooked Hyatt calls and threatens to cancel room unless we get there NOW.
Now: Meet significant other at the house, take dog on long walk around the neighborhood. Wave at joggers. Carry a pooper scooper.
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Friday, 7:30 pm
Then: Checked in, showered, dolled up. Time for dinner at any of the ridiculously mediocre and overpriced restaurants within walking distance of Dealey Plaza. Probably the Hard Rock Cafe.
Now: I can have a glass of wine with dinner. I'm still fun! Maybe we'll even go to one of those new swanky bars at the Brady District and have a few dirty martinis before going home.
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Friday, 9:00 pm
Then: Get the bill from dinner. Know you're going to be broke the rest of the month, but push that thought aside. There's partying to do.
Now: Go home. Three alcoholic beverages consumed, and there's nothing worthwhile to stay out for.
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Friday, 10:00 pm
Then: Assemble ice and Keystones in shower. Shotgun a beer with your weekend hotel roomies. Set Pandora to the Tom Petty station.
Now: Fall asleep in bed watching Modern Family.
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Friday, 11:00 pm
Then: The party's peaking, and the night is still young. OU kids from the room next door bring over a portable beer pong table, flip cup ensues. Arrange plans to meet up with cute guy from finance class at Katy Trails Ice House. Take a shot of Fireball.
Now: Zzzzzzzz.
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Friday, 11:45 pm
Then: Run into that kid from your intermediate macroeconomics class and hug like he just returned home from a prison camp. Trip on a crack in your overly ambitious heels. Fight other groups for taxis. Steal one, and not feel bad about it.
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 12:15 am
Then: VEGAS BOMBS!
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 12:30 am
Then: Meet up with said cute guy from finance. Start close-talking in the corner. Ignore all other debauchery occurring around you.
Now: Zzzzzz.
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Saturday, 1:00 am
Then: Make out with reckless abandon.
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 1:30 am
Then: Bar-wide BOOMER SOONER chant session.
Now: Zzzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 2:30 am
Then: After another round of taxi cab chicken, arrive back at the hotel. Change out of high heels and into Nike shorts. Attempt to send demure texts to Cutefinanceguy. Make friends with the kids in the hotel room across the hall.
Now: Roll over in bed and fumble around for a glass of water and some Advil. Damnit, why did I drink that extra Stella at Valkyrie?
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Saturday, 3:30 am
Then: Have a life chat with a person from the room across the hall you just met in the emergency exit staircase. Discuss terror of becoming a grown up and/or throwing one's life away.
Now: Turn Modern Family back on. Falling asleep the old fashioned way isn't going to cut it at this point.
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Saturday, 4:15 am
Then: Zzzzzzzz.
Now: Zzzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 7:30 am
Then: Zzzzzzzzz.
Now: Wide awake but utterly unrefreshed. Debate trying to go back to sleep, but decide to go ahead and start the day. Take the dog on a walk, clear out the DVR
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Saturday, 9:00 am
Then: Roll over in bed and fumble around for a glass of water and some Advil. Damnit, why did I drink that extra Red Bull Vodka at Black Friar?
Now: I guess I could go to brunch. That's the relevant and social thing to do. Wonder what patio will let me bring my dog?
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Saturday, 9:07 am
Then: Shit! The Fair! I'm Late! Hop out of bed feeling refreshed and wonderful and fight for a spot on the DART.
Now: One more episode of Scandal, then I'll get up and totally go to brunch.
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Saturday, 11:00 am
Then: Enter the stadium, corny dog in hand. (PS I have not idea why Texans call them corny dogs).
Now: One more episode of Scandal, then I'll totally turn on the game.
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Saturday. 4:00 pm
Then: Win or lose, it's time for an epic disco nap in the trashed hotel room.
Now: Sweet we won, but dangit I kinda wish Texas had shown up a little. I like that coach and what he stands for. Wow, I never thought I'd actually feel sorry for Texas. What's becoming of me?
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Saturday, 5:00 pm
Then: Zzzzzzzz.
Now: Monthly trip to Lowe's, followed by a trip to Target. Dinner at Chipotle.
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Saturday, 7:30 pm
Then: Roll over in bed and fumble around for a glass of water and some Alka Seltzer. Damnit, why did I eat that fried twinkie at the fair?
Now: I'm digging this nip in the air. Seems like the perfect opportunity to snuggle up on the couch and watch some Harry Potters. Maybe I'll text some friends first though, make sure nothing fun is going on.
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Saturday, 7:37 pm
Then: Refreshed and time to rally. Wonder what cutefinanceguy is doing tonight?
Now: Harry Potter it is.
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Saturday, 8:30 pm
Then: Eat at Taco Cabana. Ignore slow-creeping intestinal distress from all the crap and poison ingested in the last 48 hours.
Now: What the hell is Ralph Fiennes doing? It looks like he's a majorette in a choir boy band and the wand is his twirling baton.
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Saturday, 10:00 pm
Then: Attend another hotel room party. The collective fatigue is palpable, but your peers seem to be powering through. Receive text from Cutefinanceguy. Contemplate how to respond.
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Saturday, 11:30 pm
Then: Head to Idlerich. Force a vodka soda down the hatch. Shudder when it touches your lips. Text Cutefinanceguy back.
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Sunday, 12:00 am
Then: Cutefinanceguy already went home to Plano for the night. Seethe with envy. A warm quiet bed sounds glorious right now.
Now: Wake up to use the bathroom. Bask in the glory of your warm quiet bed before going back to sleep.
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Sunday, 12:30 am
Then: Snap at some poor chump trying to make conversation with you. Decide you've had enough, and head back to the hotel.
Now: Zzzzzzz.
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Sunday, 2:15 am
Then: Bark at your hotel roomie when she comes home with a pack of loud drunk friends.
Now: Zzzzzzzz.
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Sunday, 8:00 am
Then: Roll over in bed and fumble around for a glass of water and some Advil and Alka Seltzer. Damnit, why do I subject my body to this sort of abuse over and over again?
Now: Wake up feeling refreshed. I think I actually WILL go to brunch today!
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Sunday, 11:00 am
Then: Check out of destroyed hotel room, put on largest pair of sunglasses, head north up 35. Vow to never do this again...until next year.
Now: Over coffee, mimosas, french toast, pork belly, and a Denver omelet, contemplate the fact that you've become a post-grad cliche and give zero shits about it. Watching TV, eating both sweet and savory foods, and getting good sleep is about as great as it gets.
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Follow Chelsea on Twitter at @xCawoodstock
