Coming Home After Homecoming

Homecoming is one typical experience given by high schools and colleges in the United States; parades, tailgates, football games, and other customs. Quite not sure why this happens, or how it originated really, but I’ve sure had a good time with these experiences back in high school. It was an experience that I’ve wanted to enjoy in college. Now let me tell you about the time I struggled to go back home after a homecoming football game:

Ever since I started attending UTSA, I was open to trying out new experiences and going to events. With the highly-anticipated homecoming game around the corner, I decided to check out my school’s football team for once. Well, I’ve always gone to sporting events back in high school — volleyball, football, soccer, etc. However, I never really got around to checking out the UTSA football team, because I never really felt like driving over to the Alamodome — where they play their home games — among other weekend plans. For this game, though, I would be convinced to go and check out their game against Rice University since it was my first year as a college student watching his first college football game. Well, it wasn’t really like your Texas A&M Aggie football, where they have the “12th Man” and “Midnight Yell” traditions. Still, nevertheless, it felt like a great idea to check out the tailgating and football events at the Alamodome set on Saturday, October 19th. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that admission is free for current students? Another reason why I should check it out.

It was the day before the big game. The people involved in the university’s events were tabling at the Sombrilla Plaza one time. After going through an elective fine arts class, I approached them and asked them how to get to the Alamodome. They explained that I could be able to drive to one of the Downtown Campus parking lots, as they are open for any UTSA student over the weekends, and I could walk two blocks to the north to get to the VIA* bus center. They also mentioned that the parking was free. I thanked them for that advice since it did not require me to pay an expensive parking permit that allows direct parking to the stadium.

The next day, I put on my “Class of 2023” shirt and a pair of pants to celebrate with the Roadrunners on their game against the Rice Owls. I had my phone charged, my wallet set, and my car keys in hand to travel to the Alamodome. I walked out of the dorm lobby and towards my red 2011 Cadillac CTS; I saw a few people donning their tailgating outfits while making my way to my Caddy. It was a bright sunny day where I got to see my close friend, who I’ve known since kindergarten — Mr. Blue Sky. Well, I was really listening to Breakeven and The A-Team by The Script and Ed Sheeran, respectively, on my way to the DT campus parking lot.

It is important to note that I was a lone wolf during the twenty-minute drive — and for most of the football game. Ideally, I would have wanted to go with a few close friends to this experience. However, some of them had work, while others were busy with schoolwork and service opportunities and whatnot. Anyways, that wouldn’t deter me from looking into the UTSA football team going against Rice.

I arrived at one of the university’s parking lots across the downtown campus. There were only a few cars parked there. They were marked under “Employee B” to signify that these spaces were exclusive to… well, employees obviously. It made me feel like I shouldn’t take up a parking space at first, but then again, I thought about what that tabling group said. Therefore, I found a space that is on the edge of one of the streets. It would not be until dark that I would eventually go back to my car; it was a shining red Cadillac sedan. I mean, I did lock my car and all. I just gotta rely on God that it doesn’t get towed away or anything. I left the parking lot to cross the street and go past a couple blocks to get to the bus center. It felt quite hot as the sun directs its rays towards the state of Texas. Nevertheless, I found shelter in the bus center area to cool off.

A couple minutes later, the red VIA bus that was en route towards the Alamodome finally arrived. As I got on, I showed the driver the VIA bus pass on an app that I’ve downloaded on my phone; the pass is free for UTSA students, so I didn’t have to pay anything. I then took a window seat to myself — looking over the skyline of Downtown San Antonio on a bright sunny day. I pulled out my phone to check the route to determine when I should get off the bus and to post an update on my story on Snapchat.

The sights and the bustle surrounded the bus as we progressed through the historical, well-aged metropolis filled with Hispanic influences and culture. We drove by a couple of bridges over the iconic rivers that constitute the overly-commercialized Riverwalk. A few people being dropped off and picked up here and there. As we approached the Hemisfair Park, where the iconic Tower of the Americas and the Institute of Texan Cultures reside, I had an intuition to exit the bus at one of the VIA bus stops. So I exited the bus on the stop closest to a parking lot — only having realized that I had to make a five-to-ten minute walk to actually make it to the Alamodome. Of course, I figured that I exited the bus too soon, as the bus could have stopped really close to the stadium. The San Antonio weather was feeling itself of course: hot, arid, and humid. I walked by the parking lot, an apartment complex, crossed the underpass for I-37, and finally cross the street to get to the Alamodome.

I made it! The Alamodome and its surrounding parking lots. Many Roadrunners walked up and down the sets of stairs to get to the tailgating area. As I got there, I encountered various tents and exhibits set up by multiple associations, families, and Greek fraternities and sororities. On one side of the tailgating lot, families and associations were grilling hot dogs and barbeque and giving out small variety chip bags you’d find in a wholesale store; the other side of the lot, there were crazy and lit tailgating spots where you could see beer pong being played, funnels and kegs attached together, music blaring, and people my age having fun. Having not yet gone to a “wet ‘n wild” environment, I decided to try to get out of my comfort zone to check out these fun activities. This environment had some students around my age having fun with their Bud Lights, Natural Lights, White Claws, and red Solo cups. As I’ve said, I was by myself in this tailgate; I really didn’t have friends available to go to the tailgate with, I drove myself to a parking lot distant from the dorm, and I had somewhat of a conscience, so I couldn’t really afford to get drunk. Nevertheless, I tried to have fun by myself with random students. I danced around a sweaty and youthful crowd of tailgaters, cheered at the tipsy people for showing off their moves, and even rooted for a student chugging that whole can of Natural Light through that one punctured hole, holding it like a sandwich*. After a few visits to a few tailgating tents, I approached to a cooler owned by a fraternity to get water since I needed to hydrate. As I was new to this “tailgating” thing, I had to be proper and polite by asking if I could get a bottle of water since I didn’t want to feel like a roach. They were okay with people merely taking beverages from their coolers, but I still wouldn’t want to be an impolite roach. As I paced around the tailgating area to find people I recognize, I actually found a friend of mine dancing with her other friend at a nearby tailgating tent. So I went up to her to say hi. Finally, some comfort into this wild environment. As we talked, she apologized for being “a little drunk,” in which I thought, “okay then…” We then parted ways as I decided to check out the “family-friendly” side of the tailgate to get myself a hot dog since I wasn’t going to have a meal for a while.

I would end up hanging around the tailgating area until a couple minutes before the game was set to begin. Overall, the tailgating experience was a little foreign, and perhaps a bit out of my comfort zone. Still, I had a bit of fun into this litness projected by these students who I personally didn’t know. Had I ever gone to another tailgate, I would feel more inclined to go with a few friends, not have to drive myself, and help myself to a cold, refreshing, yet “fruit-forbidding” Claw without any regards to any authority whatsoever. Otherwise, I am not really proud of myself for being prude and well-behaved just like what my parents expect of me, but at the same time, I never want to be judged as a bad person who’s good for nothing. Oddly enough, the campus police were present when the 18-20 age groups were “having fun.” Yet, they were super chill about it like it was normalized. I mean, I struggle with this since I could be capable of drinking with people close to my age, but I could never buy my own case of White Claw because of this 21+ law (I mean, “no laws when drinking Claws,” amirite?). It’s repressing.

Well, enough of this somewhat incriminating detail about my thought process, I entered the Alamodome using my school ID. Of course, there were security and police officers for TSA-like protection at such a massive event like the Homecoming football game. As I said before, entry to the game was free — it was pretty nice to have Roadrunner privileges. It may not be as iconic as the football games that Texans have seen on Kyle Field, but at least we didn’t have to pay a penny to have a college experience like I did (UTSA is a C-USA school whereas Texas A&M is of the SEC; two different conferences).

31-27. Yup, I gotta say the game went pretty well. We cheered for the Roadrunners to win and to give them Owls the “hoot” back to Houston (well, that’s my lame attempt to be punny). I sure enjoyed the gameplay, depleting my ever-aging iPhone’s battery for Snapchat and checking the Astros’ progress in the ALCS*, and eating that overpriced, medium-sized, crunchy and somewhat burnt portion of tater tots smothered with ordinary marinara sauce as a part of American consumerism culture since I didn’t want to be hungry. Everybody, including myself, left the stadium as soon as we finished singing the fight song no one really remembers until they actually go to a game. The reality of the outdoors hit different as there was not a hint of sunlight anywhere in the atmosphere. I then proceeded towards the intersection of Chavez Blvd and I-37, where the nearest VIA bus stop was located, strolling by these buses and various families to get to my way towards home. I arrived at the bus stop where a man was sitting on a piece of infrastructure smoking a cigarette among other older strangers I was not familiar with. I figured that I can wait a few minutes for a bus to take me directly to the bus station I had been picked up in. I checked my phone to learn some pretty amusing details: 8:17, October 19, and a 10% next to the critically-low yellow battery that once used to be 25% the last time I used it.

I used my phone for only essential functions, like checking the VIA bus schedule every now and then. The bus was initially slated to arrive by 8:21 but later moved to 8:35, then to 8:43, then to 8:51, then to 9:27. I stood in the darkness for almost an hour, with a dying phone, a couple of unfamiliar nighttime riders, and a tiring set of feet — the things that my 9-year-old version of myself would not be comfortable with. I would have honestly phoned a good friend to come pick me up from the darkness surrounding that corner and repay them very graciously for going their way to getting me back to my car; obviously could not rely on their quick responses and did not want to drag them all the way down to the Alamodome as my phone’s life was nearly fading away into a brick. The wait was relentless until a grumpy and tired bus driver pulled up around 9:30. I could tell that he was not having it tonight as he waived the bus fees to those who boarded on the bus as well as his demeanor when he told us about the said “waived fees.” I finally rested on a seat as the air conditioning gave me comfort. As the bus started moving towards the downtown area, one of the night riders was rapping to a song only for the irritated, yet calm and controlled bus driver to ask him to watch his language. Well, I surely did not expect the VIA bus to be family-friendly and all, especially for the fact that I just hear indistinguishable mumbling and that there were no children present — I’m pretty sure this dude needs a beer. After seeing the nightlife of the city and some sparkly lit horse carriages on the road, I asked the bus driver if we were going to end up in that VIA bus station at some point. He then gave a dissenting response, so I simply just got off the next stop where Travis Park is located on Navarro St.

Suppose R&B and jazz artist, Randy Crawford, had opinions on this misadventure. In that case, she’ll agree that I was living the Street Life, “because there was no [particular] place I can go.” Essentially, I was just a sole nineteen-year-old college male stuck in the middle of a historical-looking downtown in the middle of the night — without plenty of battery on my phone to call someone. As a strolled down a block along Navarro St., the city was emitting these lights that would give vibes equivalent to nightlife: “the only life I [knew].” To my left, I see this dark alley that resembles a place where Bruce Wayne’s parents met their demise; if I had to, I would not go down without a fight. I kept walking till I was under a brightly lit awning* with a bunch of electric scooters at a corner of an intersection. There was a group of preteen boys — probably 11 or 12 years old — attempting to knock down these electric scooters along the sidewalk because they weren’t Lime scooters. One of them approached me and asked if he was right that those scooters were cheap knock-offs of Lime — attempting to seek my approval of his claims. “Well, I guess,” was something that I might have responded to this kid, though I really did not care if they were vandalizing city property. However, I question their presence in a somewhat dark city. I don’t remember being in a shady downtown area without a parent at age 11. Where were their parents? Are there really “a thousand parts to play,” which includes preteens? Anyways, I turned towards the west and noticed a Home2 Suites by Hilton across Navarro. At that moment, an extra lightbulb from that awning flashed above me.

_{*a piece of shelter attached to the exterior of a building. Yes, I had to look up a word for that particular roof. Yes, there’s actually a word for small details like this. Google it!}

Aside from that coincidental, yet cliché event, I crossed the street to enter the hotel lobby. The interior radiated hospitality as I saw how bright and secure it was on the inside. The glossy floor tiles complimented the surrounding white walls of the hotel with some plants. I sure “played my [street] life away” as soon as I went in and proceeded to go to the front desk. I alerted the concierge of my presence and explained how I needed to get back to my car and that I needed a taxi. He was super helpful to me as he summoned a taxi driver to drive me to my desired location and directed me to the front of the hotel. Kudos to him for saving me from being a bum on the streets forever without any power on my iPhone, which probably had 5% left. I went outside and waited for a shorter time compared to the wait for that VIA bus. A black four-door sedan suddenly pulled up in front of the hotel in a similar manner where one may see in GTA games where the camera slightly zooms into the cab to signify to the player that it arrived. I ran towards the rear left door that sedan and told the cab driver to take me to that parking lot where I parked my Caddy.

The driver and I had small conversations for the duration of the ride — including how I ended up lost in the city. Throughout the ride, I gained the satisfaction and the relief that I found a reliable and direct way towards my car, even if it meant paying money. It somewhat felt like a gamble, whether I had enough money or I don’t. I couldn’t really check or demand money from my parents since my phone was hanging by a 2% battery thread. However, my chances were still good anyways; I was never concerned about the cost of the ride. If there was a service very essential to this game day, that taxi service would have easily won the MVP. I directed the driver to enter the parking lot where I left my car earlier on our left, and then he pulled up right where my car was. I gave him my card and provided a tip — which I should have tipped him more because of how valuable that service was. I finally went to my car and plugged my phone into the car charger. A small yellow silver on the battery icon displayed on my screen: 1% charged. I finally made it to my own mode of transportation after such a brief misadventure. I set up my playlist for the ride and drove back home.

Okay, I really didn’t go home at first. I drove to a retail area physically attached to the off-campus apartments close to the school; I was hungry for some ramen. Then I went back to my dorm. The lobby and my dorm room were brightly lit as my eyes were finally processing an abundance of waves (or particles; light is weird when it comes to quantum physics) after a dark night out. It was only 10:30, and the Astros had only two innings left when turned on the TV. As a finished slurping them noodz, the Astros beat the Yankees 6 to 4 and secured their spot for the World Series against the Washington Nationals. So yeah, tonight was a double win for me.

Yeah… I pretty much learned something from this experience. A: I am never going to another football game with my personal vehicle ever again if I’m not willing to pay hundreds of dollars just to go enjoy these football games (which I won’t). B: It is probably preferred that I go to future tailgating events with a group of friends so that I’m more comfortable tailgating with other college-aged tailgaters and ensuring that I can make it home safely. And C: I’m never trusting VIA again with their schedules thanks to the ever-delaying bus I had to take after the game (unless perhaps it’s to and from UTSA). As much as the alumni came home to their alma mater, it took me quite an effort in “coming home after homecoming.”