Keeping Kate: Those Who Are Not Ole Miss People Cannot Appreciate the Ole Miss-ness of Those Who Are Ole Miss People...

     It's a very wordy title, I know, but it's something a man I worked with for the past two years told me one day in the spring. He attended the University of Arkansas for his undergraduate study in the early 80's but claims to have always had a fascination with Ole Miss, its culture, and of course, its people. He loved that I was an "Ole Miss person." He loved my red and blue outfits on Friday before game day in the fall. He loved my passion for my team and obnoxiousness over our victories the following Monday.

     "There's no one like them," he told me as we chatted one day. "Those who are not Ole Miss people can't appreciate the Ole Miss-ness of those who are Ole Miss people." He smiled when he said it, waiting to see if I would get it. I remember furrowing my brow. "But wouldn't that be the same for every school?," I asked. "I mean, I don't understand the Tennessee-ness of a Volunteer fan... I definitely don't understand the Mississippi State-ness of a bulldog fan..."

     "Nope," he told me. "Ole Miss and its people are different. There is no one like them." He went on to say that he doesn't particularly like Ole Miss as much as it is that he is fascinated by its culture, so don't assume I'm just putting nice words about my alma mater on my blog (I don't have to, for I know for 100% certain that Ole Miss is the greatest institution of higher learning there ever was). He was one of those guys who's just completely honest... a little too honest sometimes, but he was a good friend, and I could ~~always~~ usually appreciate his honesty.

     So, I was reminded of him this past Saturday as my husband and I visited the Grove, mixed beverages in large slurpee cups in hand. I hadn't been to the Grove in over a year and hadn't attended a game since before having Vaught. I had friends who wanted to see me and friends and sorority sisters I wanted to see. I was so excited to tailgate again, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to handle the crowd without a little something to settle my nerves. By "little something," I mean alcohol of course. I'm not a heavy drinker, just so you know. Other than the occasional glass of wine, I try to stay away from alcohol. But keep in mind that I also had not had a single drink in ten months, aside from the glass of wine I had the week my in-laws were in town, so of course I wanted to enjoy something to drink!
     After dropping Vaught off with his grandparents for the day, I mixed light cranberry juice and Skinny Girl vodka with a few lime wedges in a large gas station slurpee cup (of course I'm going to attempt to drink lightly, as the Fourth Trimester Project is still very much in tow). I sipped as we trekked about half a mile to the Grove and located our friends' tent. We were Groving with my friend from my former work, Amanda, and her family. I was having more fun than I can tell you! It felt so good to be out of the house and with friends in my home away from home. At some point, I decided to go visit some of my sorority sisters across the Grove, so Eric and I set out to find them. We were actually in the Circle at the time, and as we were walking down All American Drive, I slowed down to look at something. I turned my head as we were walking, and when I turned back around, I ran smack into a girl wearing a bright blue, extremely short romper. Her red Solo cup and everything in it went flying, some of it drenching both of us. I remember immediately hoping she wouldn't be terribly pissed at me. "What the hell!" she said, and I began apologizing over and over. But then she started laughing a little... and then a lot. She was a little tipsy, and I was too, but not so far gone that I couldn't think straight. I began to laugh with her, then I offered her my cup. "Here, drink some of mine. It's the least I can do." I held the straw for her as she bent her head to the straw. "Oh my God, what is this?!" she said, a big, bright smile spreading across her face. I told her that more than an hour ago it had been a skinny vodka cranberry, but I was pretty sure that by now it was just straight vodka. "This is awesome," she said. She took a few more sips then hugged me and said "Hotty Toddy! I love you!" I told her I loved her as well, and we set out in different directions. And that was that. I know a lot of people think that those gorgeous Ole Miss girls are all bitches, and some are, but they are the exception, not the rule.
      When we reached my friend's tent, Eric and I hung around for a while, and we chatted with other people who stopped by. One thing I love about the people we Grove with is that they always invite the opposing team's fans inside to grab a bite to eat or watch whatever game they have set up on their fifty-two inch flat screen. A lot of the visiting fans walk around a bit awkwardly; they'll stop at tents to take pictures of the setup and chandeliers or just look around, and I love that the Ole Miss people I associate with are kindhearted and friendly, always inviting them inside to sit for a while. Eric and I actually ended up walking three Auburn fans to the stadium (one had been a Phi Mu at Auburn) and helping them find their gate. They shook Eric's hand and gave me a hug before going inside. "Friendly rivals!" one of them called to us as they walked away.

These things, these little run-ins, make me proud to be an "Ole Miss person." Yes, I know there are awesome people at every school, but I have to agree wholeheartedly with the man I worked with; there's no group of individuals quite like Ole Miss people, and our hospitality, even in our drunkenness, is just a small fraction of what makes us special. As Ole Miss people, we cannot explain it... And non-Ole Miss people will never be able to understand it.