Just repost it then. Most of us will be in transit that day.

Why I hate SCum

Many heart felt words have been written on the multitude of reasons to hate SCum.  Having lived inMiamifor several years, I feel all the pain which is contained in each post, but let me tell you a part of my story.

The year was 1987.  The Venue—TheOrangeBowl.  The Gators had a hot young running back named Emmit Smith.  Surprisingly my roommate and I were able to get 17 tickets to the game which was held on Labor Day Weekend.  I invited many Gator friends to come to Miamifor the weekend.  I provided tickets, food drink and lodging to several of them. 

The weekend started out great.  The party on Friday night at ourMiamiShoreshome was well attended and spirits were high.  On Saturday morning We all got together and car pooled, for safety reasons, in a caravan that looked something like this    to the Orange Bowl.

We found parking near the Orange Bowl Bar and poured out of our vehicles and into theOB.  While our seats were not all together, they were generally in the same section of theOB.  The section was in the enclosed end of the stadium and under the overhang.  We all got our beverages and proceeded to our various seats. It took us some time to get to our seats and while my friends were finding their way, I hung back at top of section and allowed them get seated.  As I was chilling in the back, I noticed some guy fire up a joint and then some undercover cops take him out.  I watched the same thing happen again a few minutes later.  I didn’t recall asking to sit in the Hookah section but since it shaded and the beer stand was close, I really didn’t care. 

Following two safeties by the Gators and the score being UF 4 Scum-0, I eventually took my seat and this RASTATV dude starts to burn one.  I advise him against this practice and advised him of what I had seen previously.  He said thanks and stashed his stash.  I didn’t really think anything else about it until two uniformed officers came up from the bottom of section and pointed @ RASTATV dude and me.  Of course I asked, “You want me?” Mr. Po-Po and his buddy said shut up and come here.  In the aisle they cuffed both of us and started leading us out of the stands.  I asked what I did and was informed that “I had obstructed justice”.  Apparently there was an undercover po-po sitting near us who relayed my conversation to Mr. Po-Po. 

Mr. Po-Po and his partner were pretty jacked up as they were taking us out.  I just tried to “yes sir” and “no sir” them until they chilled and I felt I could talk to them.  As we were walking down the ramp, Mr. Po-Po told Mr. Rasta, they were going to take the hand cuffs of him and let him go.  Mr. Rasta said, “Let me get this straight, you are going to take the cuffs off and just let me go?”  Po-Po #2 replied not exactly, “we are going to take the cuffs off and when you run, we are going to shoot your black ass.”  The Po-Po’s were being pretty rough with me, but I just kept my mouth shut. 

I had about $300.00 in my wallet and one of buddies followed us out at a safe distance.  The Po-Pos let me take out my wallet and give it to my buddy while allowing me to keep about $50.00 and my ID.

When we got to the bottom of Stadium, we went in a little side door and down in the bowels of the bowels of theOB.  There was a small booking area and a jail cell which measured about 15’ x 15’ and in said jail cell, there were about 250 people.  Most of the 250 were wasted and smelly.  My nightmare was to be placed in there with the hoard of mainly SCum drunks.  Fortunately, after Mr. RASTATV was booked and squeezed into theOBversion of the Midnight Run prison, Mr. Po-Po said, “I’ll tell you what; if you leave right now and promise not to come back we will let you go.”  I started to ask if they were going to shot me when I left, but decided that was not a good idea. 

I left theOBvia the back door, took my $50.00 to Orange Bowl Lounge and drank every drop that $50.00 would buy.  SCum scored 31 unanswered points and I have never set foot in that now demolished hell hole again.