9:30 AM rolls around. You wake up with the imprint of carpet fresh on your face. It takes a minute to realize where you are, in a small room in one of the various student-grade apartments, accompanied by several other people. Being the first one up, the first move is to retrieve the advil bottle and find the biggest recepticle that will hold water that you can find (and that isn't filled with cigarrette butts). It is the first person up's responsibility to awake the others, preferably as violently as possible (consideration is given to those of the female persuation). A boot to the ribs, a shot to the back, a yell in the ear; all are fair game and all are appreciated, for once the initial rage of the recently awoken werars off, the realization that today, YES TODAY is finally here supercedes all feelings of anger. Today, life has a meaning again. Breakfast is for chumps. First priority after rounding the troops up is obtaining the mass amount of strong beverage necessary for the day's activities. A scout procurement team (usually either people with the $$ or the ones who don't have a significant other to tend to) set off to purchase the half barrell and to stake out the hallowed tailgating spot, a spot held for the past 7 seasons. Arrival happens around 11:30, always a few minutes before our neighbors, and for a few minutes we'll root the neighboring party about beating them to the spot YET AGAIN for the opener. Good times. The secon wave of people show up, usually sporting the food for the day. Unless someone else is cooking, this consists of greasy ready to eat food that can be stored for hours (post game revival). The keg is tapped FIRST, then the camp is set up. By noon the spot is fully functional and I've forgotten that just 2 short hours earlier I was cursing the man who invented beer. The next 6 hours lets you know just how much you miss football. People show up who you haven't seen since the last season, someone always makes an ass of themselves and the buffet cd that skips in the same spot every freaking year will make at least 2 revolutions. The tailgate gets packed up 5 minutes before kickoff and you still have no tickets, but it's the first game and nobody cares... for me, the peak is that one moment, stumbling down north-south towards the stadium, when people are trying to start fan cheers, fans are trying to root the fans of the patsy team that decided to show up and everything is right with the world.... that's the moment that you capture back a little bit of what it was like to be there. It's an indescribable feeling. Leak, Ingle, a trained chimp, whatever.... when it comes to the Gator games it doesn't matter who's on the field or what some sportswriter a thousand miles away writes about a team's chances for the future... that one moment and the many to follow when the gator nation is back in full swing and is banded together cheering for the orange and bule... that is what is missed most.