Saturday, February 9, 2019

A Look into Tailgating :: Personal Narrative Sports Papers

A Look into TailgatingI slouch rearwards in my blue canvas-folding chair. My legs ar crossed neatly in front of me, devising a sturdy table for my notebook. I positioned myself between two topaz RVs they both atomic number 18 decorated in their own special ways. My back was facing the Stone building, which is right on the edge of campus. The RV on my right has a garnet flag hanging on the back window with FSU sewn on in gold letters. The RV to my left chose a white a flag with the Seminole emblem, it was hanging from the over hang. People ptyalize as they pass. Strands of my hair blow softly across my face in the cool breeze, and getting into my eyes occasionally. Thither are so galore(postnominal) questions race through my mind as stare at the cluster in front of me. Every Saturday as I walk by the thousands of parked cars I wonder why they are here. What compels these men and women who cede real jobs and depart in exciting cities to come back here and tailgate? So I sit amongst them, and try to understand them. They blabber and eat all around me. We attain some camaraderie, but we are different. Maybe because I cant imagine myself in their shoes ten age from now.I dont know anyone around me but they all look familiar. The pop who is dressed in jeans and a garnet pollo shirt stands behind a keen Webber grill. He glances up occasionally moving his attention from the cooking nerve to watch the miniature TV sitting on the table. His wife is busily at work setting up the assortment of goodies and chatting with the wife of the other RV. Every now and then she peers out from under her gold top to make sure what the children are doing. The kids, who range from all ages, play football on the one patch of the grass that is unoccupied (which is actually phonation of a ditch). I watch them as they go about their routine. We have a few things in common. I am also exhausting a Garnet shirt. We cheer for the same football team. But there are also so man y things that separate us. To begin with, I live Tallahassee. My house is one block from where they set up their RV and man-portable grills. Every morning I walk past this same blob where we all sit now.

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