Sunday, October 04, 2009

Ode to the Drunk Sitting Behind Me

It's game day at Arrowhead Stadium,
The game clock has just started to crawl;
Unfortunately the guy sitting behind me,
Has consumed absurd amounts of alcohol.

K-State stands on our side, Iowa State on the other,
Meanwhile, we're up in the top stadium deck;
There's no chance someone on the field could hear your "quips,"
Nevertheless, you decide to check.

Your taunts of the Cyclones are insufferable,
Your mouth is where lame, slurred comments are born;
I understand the opposing squad is from Iowa,
But please don't tell them to "G'eat some hot corn."

I'm not sure how many beers you've consumed,
Nor the number of brain cells you now lack;
But, it's hard to pass much respect your way,
When you fall forward over my seat and onto my back.

I help you back up, you mumble something incoherent,
It's quite a relationship that we maintain;
I don't recall any bonding, or singing of "Lean on Me,"
But with your level of inebriation, you'd probably forget the refrain.

Apologies are passed on by your family,
But, oddly, the booze continues to flow;
Seems that those truly apologetic,
Would either cut you off or tell you to go.

How can I tell that you're still drinking?
How do I know that on a liquid diet you continue to dine?
Perhaps it's a gift, a sixth sense, if you will,
That, or I feel the suds just spilled down my spine.

More apologies are given, a "free ride" is mentioned,
I'm not really sure what that means;
I just know my shirt smells a lot like a brew now,
Sitting in front of you? It was "Bad Idea Jeans."

The game is a tight one. It's down to the wire,
I could live without you hitting me as you clap and cheer;
The 'cats won by one, so I'll try not to complain,
Your celebration? Probably more beer.

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