So, my dad went to UNC for undergrad and for law school. I wouldn't say he necessarily bleeds blue (like me. and let's be honest, that's really only because when I lived in FL, everyone just assumed I was a huge ACC basketball fan since I was from NC. Of course I was, I told them. And since I just so happened to have a UNC jersey hanging in my closet from Halloween one year, I became the largest UNC fan EVER), but back to my dad. If he IS actually going to watch sports, he'd prefer for it to be UNC. There was a point where I was thisclose to moving to Chapel Hill to work for UNC Hospitals. I had my house picked out and had already talked to dad about how we would a)get season tickets to everything (except women's basketball because let's face it. it's women's basketball) and b)sell my driveway during game day. I was gonna be rolling in the carolina blue deep. Except then I didn't move to Chapel Thrill. I didn't want to totally dash dad's carolina blue dreams, so for Christmas, I got him tickets to the UNC v Virginia game. He received two tickets, but really he only got one. Clearly I was going to take the other. I told him upfront that our seats were bad. Little did I know just how bad they really were.
Game day finally arrived and I was excited! Dad was under strict instructions to wear his best Carolina gear. You'll see from the picture above just what that consisted of: nothing. First order of business? Food. I am my father's daughter after all. We got some snacks and snuck down to the floor seats (ie the Rams Club seats) to watch our boys warm up. Dad promptly dropped his hot dog on the floor, along with the bottle of mustard and ketchup that apparently came with it. I was trying to take pictures of my husband Tyler Zeller when dad said "uh oh Meredith. we gotta move." I looked down at the floor and agreed. Hot messes like us clearly didn't belong in the Rams Club. Now, I had warned dad that our seats were bad. He clearly didn't believe me because as we huffed and puffed to our seats he told me "well gee Meredith. I didn't realize you were serious!" Uhh thanks Dad for believing me. And welcome to Row Y (there is no Row Z) and congratulations on not being 6 foot 4 because while you may be tall, you wouldn't have a head any longer after getting to these seats. Oh, and have a napkin because your nose is gonna start bleeding pretty soon. Word to the wise: if I ever tell you I have a hunch we are the very last seats in the furthest corner, just believe me.
Luckily for me, I didn't have to worry about getting hungry. In an effort not to work up more of a sweat (I had a hot date later in the evening), I refused to leave my seat at the top of the Dean Dome. Dad left his seat often and each time, came back with a new snack. He shared hilarious stories of his days at UNC over popcorn, ice cream and other delights (did you know my dad and two of his friends were the founding -and only - members of the UNC chapter of the Young Americans for Freedom Right Wing Division?). While wiping the sweat off his brow, he decided these seats were perfect since we are both currently training for a 30.1 mile hike in April. "This will get you trained right up!" he told me on his 47th arrival from the food court.
Later that week, he called to tell me he had pulled a muscle.