Okay, so in April I got to recognize a dream: actually attending a Final Four. One in which my alma mater had a one in four shot in winning. (Don't worry, I'm the rare UK fan who can handle defeat-this is not a whiny post.) I'm still trying to process everything that went down over the five days I was there, and the only way I know how to do it is to ramble so here goes:
The Actual Trip
If you know me at all, you know I'm not big on long drives. My best friend just bought a car and wanted to drive, but I dug my heels in and refused. I don't like my blood relatives after three hours in a car, so 18 hours in a vehicle with one person? I would have been put in the pen by Memphis at the very latest.
Because my life is what it is, our first flight got delayed out of Lexington by 90 minutes. Of course, we chatted with the other UK fans in the Lexington gates (one girl on another flight worked with two girls I had graduated high school with-you can not convince me it's a big world out there). The delay wasn't so bad, because they bumped us up to first class on the flight from Atlanta to Dallas. However, because Laura Faye and I must cause a scene wherever we go, I told her we were in first class (our tickets read 1A and 2B). She informed me no, we were still in economy, there were just two rows. I (foolishly) listened to her, only to start turning around and heading back up to first class. It en route to first class I was asked semi-politely by a very built Marine if I was trying to deplane. (This just cemented the fact that I knew what I was doing and let others lead me astray.) My next thought was, "Is he an incognito air marshal?" Being put on the "No Fly List" was not on my list of things to do over spring break. We were watched closely, but once they realized we were just exuberant fans, it was all good. Needless to say, I felt very safe on the plane.
We flew into Dallas to meet with one of our college friends and drive down to Houston for the games. Because I don't do normal well, the stomach bug that necessitated us calling the health department (my complex alone had 23 kids out) hit halfway between Atlanta and Dallas. By the time our plane touched down, I'd been up 20 hours, was pale faced and ready to puke my guts out. Because when you see your friend's house for the first time, it's always best to drop your bags and ask, "Where's the bathroom?" I slept two hours that night. (I told you, I don't do normal well!)
The road trip was good because it gave us some much needed time to catch up (even if someone spent Saturday morning nursing a stomach bug her sweet, precious students gave her and zonked out in the backseat on Tylenol PM). On the first flight home, the flight attendant on the plane in Dallas took one look at my blue and white checkered purse and asked if I were a UK fan because she could take one look at that pocketbook and tell. Turns out the Big Blue fans stick out like sore thumbs and we don't even apologize for it. We sport it like a badge of honor.