(Terrapins Stadium, College Park, MD, on a Pee Dee. Photo Socotra.)

There were high thin clouds that enhanced the delirious blue of the Maryland sky. Temperature in the low sixties. A nice breeze to make the flags stand out. And the tailgate? Damn!

It was a Pee Dee: a perfect day.

It could have been better, I suppose. It could have wound up at the end in a tangle of limbs and the scent of someone you like a lot, but it didn’t and there is nothing to be done about that, so l determined to let that part go.

The rest of it was pretty cool. If you were going to create a Perfect Day, yesterday was it.  The Colonel dodged the crowds on the Mall coming up from Stafford County, and the Admiral was right on time, arriving at the appointed minute with the official Game Day transit-mobile, his aging but utterly reliable Subaru Outback.

I want to go on record as supporting that little mini-SUV as one class ride. Durable, reliable, spacy in the rear with the lift-gate that accommodates coolers and grills like a champ. Did I mention there was room for plenty of beer? I guess that is part of a perfect day, and a perfect ride to get there.

(Subaru Outback, the #1 Vehicle for a Pee Dee.)

We had to wait in the parking lot at Big Pink for the Argonaut, who is still a go-getter and was doing some Merger and Acquisition business at the Headquarters instead of sautéing veggies and bagging up brats and sausage like I was. The Subaru Outback was recently voted the #1 Lesbian vehicle in America in a contest conducted by the Car Talk guys on National Public Radio, which the Admiral didn’t know, but which the Colonel and I made a point of reminding him about repeatedly.

There was some serious stuff going on elsewhere and I tuned it out completely. The Wolverines were going to get pummeled by Penn State over at Beaver Stadium and the Spartans were going to have their dream season punctured by the Iowa Hawkeyes.

(Grilled Brats. Game Day perfection.)

So the perfect day was less than that elsewhere, but man, what a day for football. We were just behind the crowd of people demonstrating for sanity downtown. According to the radio, the Metro system, populated by sane people, was hamburgered. It would have been insane to try to get to College Park that way, and the Admiral expertly navigated the Subaru across the 14th Street Bridge and up to where the Freeway ends at New York Avenue.

The Rally To Restore Sanity And/Or Fear was happening as we went by, bound for more important business. The crowd was huge, and Stephen Colbert and Jon-with-no-H Stewart could not have picked a better day to highlight the absurdity of our system. We heard later that the comedians said they were not looking down on anyone, though of course they were, and I admired their hutzpah, featuring the Muslim formerly known as Cat Stevens and Ozzy Osborne, singing the two songs that made them famous.

“Get on the peace train,” from Yusuf Islam was interrupted by Ozzy’s “going off the rails on a crazy train.” I know which train we were headed for, and it was absolutely the perfect day for it.

Every time I plunge into the city I am amazed at the positive energy in the District. When I first started to go to the games at College Park, there were places I was convinced would have been worth your life if the car broke down. Now, in stretches of Rhode Island Avenue, the trim brick row-houses are sprucing up and the people on the street seem to have a spring in their step.

(Brats and bravado in Parking Lot 1b. Photo Socotra.)

Recession or not, the town is coming back from the awful brink. We wheeled into College Park the back way and into lot 1B. The Argonaut and I set up the grill in the parking space adjacent to us, and I began to unpack the sautéed peppers and kraut and cole slaw to go with the brats and hot Italian sausages. The aroma of chicken and beef and barbeque from a hundred grills filled the fresh crisp air. The air had a luminescence and interior light quite apart from that of the sun. The coolest state flag- the House of Calvert- flapped from poles all over the parking lot, and the air was filled with footballs and Frisbees.

(The Man Up Hard Core Buffet. The Maker’s Mark is particularly bracing. Photo Socotra.)

The Man Up Crew was partying in two parking places diagonal from us. Their thing is to offer attractive ladies, and others, complementary shots of hard liquor. The Argonaut and I, not being designated drivers, helped ourselves. He is doing the Marine Marathon today and wanted to be ready for it. He is out there as I write, hoping to beat four hours and I bet he is going to do it.

(Terps kicking Demon Deacon butt. Photo Socotra.)

The Terps knew it was a PD. They kicked the crap out of the Demon Deacons, and notched 55 points before we ambled out of our seats in the fourth quarter to head back to the tailgate. We partied on until the lot emptied our and the sky was as crimson as the leaves in the west.

Reluctantly, we bagged up the trash, stashed the coolers in the rear of the #1 Lesbian SUV, and headed back across the District toward ole Virginny.

Like I said, I suppose it could have ended more perfectly, but on the whole, it was a damn fine day.

Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
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