McLeay : Unlikely history of tailgating revealed

Ah, I love this time of year. You can smell it in the air. You are in the midst of nearly every student's favorite time on the calendar. Take a big whiff. It's tailgate time.

Like the football season, the tailgate season enlivens the faces of students at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln more than a dash of Neutrogena Morning Burst.

Personally, I love tailgates more than Kanye West likes to ruin his reputation, so I take this subject very seriously. You must abide by the rules. Think of tailgating as a Fight Club, and I am your Tyler Durden.

Unless you have never gone to a school with a sports team, had access to a vehicle with a sporty hatchback or are currently residing in a remote location – like the cavernous grotto formerly known as the Underground Railroad – it is safe to say you probably know the fundamental nature of a tailgate.    

In contemporary times, the tailgate consists of chip n' dip platters, more Tupperware than a pot luck, a George Foreman and an abundance of booze.

You may wonder when and where this all began. (OK, so what, I'm going to tell you anyway.) Although the tailgating practice has evolved over the years, the first traces of it have been around for centuries.

In ancient Rome, Julius Caesar did more than just say "I came, I saw, and I conquered." He also may have been the founder of tailgating as it has evolved today. It all started during one scorching hot summer in early Italy, a young Caesar was exhausted from a taxing chariot race, and with a glance at his regal sundial, agreed to open the doors to the Roman Colosseum to exhibit various forms of entertainment.

Inside, men shouted like savages for the death of one or two of their favorite lunatics as they got sloshed on the finest fruits of the vine. Women were permitted to leave the household for a limited amount of time wearing provocative tunics amongst serving sausage and domestic fowl.

It was like a prehistoric version of Hooters in that joint. The out of control primeval cage matches were eventually halted because Caesar would always get too sloppy drunk and end up passing out in the public bath.

Tailgating caught on. Over in Europe, "Bloody" Mary I of England threw back toddies before burning religious dissenters at the stake. Even the Puritans in colonial Massachusetts drank in moderation down at Ebenezer's Pub shortly before execution of those witchy women during the Salem Witch Trials.

Many years later at the Civil War's Battle of Bull Run, ecstatic Union followers crashed Washington, D.C., with food and spirits, shouting, "Go Big Blue!"

Learning the history of tailgating is vital. Giving you some perspective on how our forefathers used to get drunk and yell at things in a sporting arena is why I am here. But enough about historical tailgating. My principal duty is to teach you the way to have a successful experience at tailgate event before, possibly during, and after 22 guys in hard helmets and shoulder gear fight over a pigskin in a stadium.

Let's get to the rules.

Rule #1: For God's sake do not come empty-handed. Roll out your Igloos and fill them to the brim with ice and beverages. Lug your shopping cart of Doritos Collisions you acquired from the Frito-Lay factory to the car and be ready to pass them out like Whitney Houston does with a bucket of Quaaludes at a Bobby Brown concert.

Rule #2: Use proper etiquette if you decide to cross over the bridge to the Dark Side, also known as the North Bottoms. Unless you happen to be Spider-Man or possess a jetpack, there is no way of avoiding the overpass. First, there are always little children on leashes and senior citizens stuck against the railings, so keep an eye out. Furthermore, since this particular viaduct is normally more congested than a sniffling Snuffleupagus, you'll need to be patient.

Rule #3: Take advantage of the various lavatories around the tailgate districts. The Porta-Potties are your friends. However, if you are standing in line behind anyone eating a cheese Runza and/or they look like John Goodman, go somewhere else. You would probably rather endure a Lady GaGa concert than step in the outhouse after that dude. Nonetheless, I would rather not tailgate at all than have anything to do with "taking a ride on her disco stick."

Rule #4: Not everyone carrying a football throws like Tommy Frazier. Just because you've just downed 10 Nantucket wheats at your ritzy stadium-parking-lot tailgate doesn't mean you can pass like Peyton Manning. Liquid courage won't improve your skills. Most of the time your passing direction is about as spot on as Stevie Wonder throwing a bull's-eye on a dartboard.  

Rule #5: Do not panic at the sight of little or no more alcohol. If you arrive to a keg party, and the people there are clawing their way to fill a small cup with cheap beer because the keg is nearly dry, or worse, the beer is already gone, just chill for a minute.
Storming the keg like a troop of hungry cheetahs to a zebra carcass does not help the situation. To assume able-bodied college students cannot find a clear and concise way to quickly purchase more alcohol is absurd. And although you may feel worse-off than a guard in a prison riot when it's all gone, tailgating is a marathon, not a race.

Now, to the 12 people that read this column, remember these rules. I can almost guarantee you will become a winning tailgater when the next home game comes around. I know a tailgating stench is already beginning to tantalize your nostrils.

Embrace it. Ah, its tailgate time. You've gotta love it.

Bryce McLeay is a senior Advertising major. Reach him at brycemcleay@dailynebraskan.com.