Comfort Zone

On Friday, August 30th, 2024, the University of Oklahoma football team faced off against Temple University for their first game of the season, and their first game in the SEC.

The team’s last season in the Big Twelve ended not with a bang, but rather a dull pop. After proudly donning the golden hat in the Red River Rivalry, OU would suffer an embarrassing loss to sworn rival Oklahoma State University, then secure three victories before ultimately losing to the Arizona Wildcats in the Alamo Bowl by fourteen points.

But now, the Sooners had entered the big leagues, joining infamous teams such as Georgia, LSU, Auburn, and Alabama in the SEC. As the newcomer, OU felt plenty of pressure to perform well against the AAC’s Temple Owls, setting the tone for the season.

I watched the first half of the game from my parents’ couch. OU’s defense was still ironclad, but their offense was prone to mistakes. Players choked, panicked, and got tackled as they hesitated to make a move. We stole the ball from Temple twice, scoring after each turnover and giving us the advantage. Despite being ahead by 34 points by the end of the first half, OU cracked under pressure. Players fumbled passes and botched drives. Instead of the previous offensive strategy of “play so fast, they won’t know how to respond,” OU embraced a new strategy: “confuse the hell out of your opponent.”

A number of OU players would cluster towards the ball, then explode in all different directions, making it hard to tell which player held the pigskin until he crossed the first down line. The strategy worked for the first half, but Temple got aggressive in the third quarter, scoring a single field goal and limiting OU to the same.

By the time I left, there was absolutely no danger of Temple making a comeback, with the exception of something extraordinary like the entire OU team falling ill or becoming victim to some terrible tragedy. But such things are rare in the Oklahoma Memorial Stadium, so I left and decided on what to do next:

I SHOULD go to campus and get a taste of the energy. See how people were reacting to our first win and track down some debauchery all in the name of OU football. But I COULD head north now and beat traffic. Return to OKC, unwind, and fall asleep next to my girlfriend. I was exhausted and this wasn’t technically a “real” SEC game, so a trip to campus corner would just be a waste of time. I knew for certain what lay in OKC, but Campus Corner was a mystery; a story untold. My curiosity got the better of me and I dove into the heart of Sooner Central.

Pedestrians crossed the street haphazardly in droves. Cars crawled slowly but never stopped completely, until the van in front of me suddenly halted. Now I was stuck. No place to park, no way to back out, no place to turn, no choice but to go deeper into the epicenter and witness the insanity firsthand.

I found parking but hesitated. If I go in now, I may be stuck there until Saturday morning. I’d have a triple digit bar tab and wake up on someone’s lawn.

“No, I can’t do that again” I told myself. But with shaken nerves, I headed into the fray, drawn by curiosity and a NEED to know just what was going on.

Students screamed from porches as older couples ambled down the darkened street. The closer I got to Asp, the more people I encountered: The smart ones had left the game first. Well-to-do families smartly dressed led a parade of increasingly disheveled football fans. At the end of the line were young men wearing overalls with one strap over the opposite shoulder, faces painted in crimson, cream, and puke. As well as young women stumbling in their high-heeled boots and missing one of their fake eyelashes, constantly adjusting their tube tops in an effort to avoid exposing themselves.

It was a sad lot indeed. Seven years ago and I would have been cozy among them, chatting up the men while charming their girlfriends, but reality found me as the cigarette butt burned my fingertips and I suddenly remembered that I despised “greek life” culture and everyone who espoused it. Such vapidity deserves no friendship. Yet here I am anyway, fist-bumping random dudes and flashing faint, fake smiles at the women.

I emerged from an alley into the main nerve: a stream of crimson and cream, pulsing north to a destination unknown, like foamy blood flowing from an open wound. I wedged myself in between two groups watching the last three minutes of the game on the big screen. Temple played half-heartedly as OU players chest-bumped and cheered. The winner was settled at halftime, all we were doing now was seeing how it played out. I watched the commercials then turned to my sides to see that the groups had left. I was all alone watching the final minutes of the game play out.

Fireworks shot into the air from the stadium. We’d won. Thirty seconds were left on the screen and I wanted to see our victory as the shots failed to surpass the cacophony of the street.

The game ended in the blink of an eye. No one cheered. There was no grand celebration. I shuffled forward, trying to think of what came next, when a young man approached me.

“Are you a driver?”

“Driver? Hell! I’m here on my own two feet.”

The man stood dumbfounded.

“Mustang?”

“No, my car is way off yonder. If you’re looking for your ride, head up that street. That’s where the Ubers are parked.”

I dismissed the drunk and walked towards the corner store, dodging drunk kids holding each other as they established their own limits for the first time.

I tried to call a friend, but no one picked up. I wandered down the alley and pulled the flask from my boot. A brief chug of rum revitalized me, giving me clarity and calm in the eye of chaos. I squeezed by a convertible Mustang parked in an alley. Dead ahead was the kid from before. He was trying to catch the attention of anyone within his reach, while they ignored him and moved on. My feet carried me towards him and I thought “good Lord, here we go!”

“Hey! Are you catching a ride with a Mustang? There’s one in the alley there.”

“No, I’m trying to get to Mustang. The city. I just need a ride, my friends left me and I want to go home.”

I thought for a second “poor kid. Here amidst all this with no wish other than to go home.”

“You’re trying to GET to Mustang?”

“Yeah, I wanna go home.”

“How long of a drive is it?”

“Thirty minutes. I can’t find an Uber.”

I sighed and considered for a long while. I almost asked how much it was worth to him, but I could tell he was in a bad state.

“Hell, I can probably give you a ride, but we won’t be making it out of Norman anytime soon.”

“Can I wait with you?”

I then realized that the man’s desperation was just as great as my own. I invited him over to a pair of stools and encouraged him to sit. We talked for awhile, watching drunk kids pass as he explained his predicament:

“My friends left me, it was twenty-five dollars to get into the bar, and I don’t have that kind of money to throw around. They left me alone.”

“I understand… I was supposed to meet some people out here, but they never came. So I guess I’m alone too.”

I sat there and listened to him until foot traffic had lightened up.

“Alright. Follow me and I’ll get you home.”

I led him down streets, alleys, and avenues until we were at my car. He offered me a cigarette and I had no other choice but to accept. He dropped into the passenger seat as I started the engine.

“Mustang, you said?”

“Mustang, five minutes from the airport.”

“And you can find your own home?”

I knew better than to trust a drunk. In half an hour I’d be cruising Mustang streets until he picked out a house that looked familiar. I was down to give him a ride, but I wasn’t down to waste time, so I had to be absolutely certain that he knew where he was going.

We cruised along back streets until merging into the post-game capillary that led to the highway. He talked constantly: of his personal philosophy, how lucky he was to live this moment, of how much he loved his girlfriend, Chicago, drag bars, and all the feelings that interjected.

But I understood him. He gets It: The basic philosophical understanding that all of us are just trying to make it through life with a minimum of pain and struggle, while countering that same pain and struggle with optimism. We were one and the same, despite our differences. By the end of the drive, we were brothers.

I pulled up to his duplex and unlocked the doors.

“Sir, it’s been a pleasure. As soon as I get to Chicago, you’re the first name on my list.”

“Yeah, take care! And again, thanks for giving me a ride home. I appreciate it.”

“Of course! Boomer Sooner! And get home safe! Your girlfriend is waiting on you.”

I backed out and waited until I could see that he got the front door open. I pulled back onto the highway and tried to rationalize the last hour that I had endured.

I came for a story about football culture. Just a basic grasp at what the local football team inspired in the hearts of those who supported it. But I knew it was a lost cause and I did something on whim:

I didn’t have to give that boy a ride home. Hell, I didn’t even have to go to campus corner. But now that it’s done, I’m glad I did. If I ever make it back up to Chicago, he owes me a street dog.

I stayed up and thought for a long time. Why did I spend the night the way I did? I could have missed this all by just going home and going to bed. Nothing more than whim drove me to campus corner. And nothing more than chance led me to meet the young man I’d drive to Mustang. I originally didn’t want to, but I ended up doing it anyway. Fate? Coincidence?

Who’s to say?

“Southern hospitality,” he called it. But I’ve been all over and seen this kindness everywhere. The season ahead of the Sooners is still uncertain, but as for me, I’ve gotten off on the right foot.

Absolutely, break out of your comfort zone, do something you wouldn’t normally do, embrace the chaos and lay tracks upon a land that is yet to be trod. Or, stay at home, cling to familiarity, and miss countless opportunities to make great new friends.