A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and

the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999:

6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at

full-freaking blast

6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels

7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the

morning)

8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)

8:53 Crack open second beer

8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)

10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard

for smoooooth 95

10:35 Headed for San Antonio (Alamodome - Nebraska vs

Texas)

10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities

11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we

double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle

"Traveler" Jim Beam

11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a

single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees.

11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the sh!t out of

Nebraska.

11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f!!k himself.

12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome.

We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple

hundred of us). We're hooting and

hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and

serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of

Texas. AWESOME MOMENT.

12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men

are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and

certain of the fact that we are going to kick the sh!t out of Nebraska.

11:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the

Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back

and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska

fight songs. Although somewhat

impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to

kick the sh!t out of Nebraska.

1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to

stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants.

1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are

taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the

sh!t out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to

play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop

Out." Remember flop out for a

dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he's so

confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW

and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke

these memorable words: "And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You

request those non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-b!tches!" He backs

down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix,

non-refundable and non-transferrable.

Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame.

I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans.

I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to

the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom.

2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler

and pour my first stiffy.

2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big.

Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas.

3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total

offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking sh!t. I pour

another stiffy from the Traveler.

3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is

a dead soldier. I buy my first $5

beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap

nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.

3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had

another Traveler.

4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom

at halftime, I attempt to revive

the classic Brice- ism from the South Bend bathroom:

yes"> "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k." He is unamused.

4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome

merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me.

Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to

purchase Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith.

Nebraska is a bunch of pu$$ies.

4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled

for their lives. I purchase two

more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants.

5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose

faith. This normally would trouble

me, but I am too drunk to see the football field.

5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those

tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable."

5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the

concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can

be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by

this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the f**k didn't you announce last call over

the f**king PA system??!!"

5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat.

All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I

mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the

answer is > > >>no, we were not winning and we did not score. The

largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the

handlers were walking back

to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a gargantuan

sh!t all over the letters "S", "K",and "A" in the

"Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up

the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty.

6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the

truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but

I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the

evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October,

they would be playing Florida State for the national championship.

6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the

basketball game.

8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I

crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care.

7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the

store. I walk past the beer frig. I

notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima

from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima

sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig.

7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where

the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one

there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I

eat them. I am still hungry. I lean

further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk

out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami.

yes"> The

patrons in the store fear me. I don't care.

8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer

and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my

singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs

besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon

Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was

a bit

excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, Icould just let the CD play on its own.

I tell him to f**k off and restart "Neon Moon."

8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against

my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking

garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I

tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f**king tent

here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes.

I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly.

8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my

pants. We're going to kick the sh!t out of Arizona.

9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I

go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of

the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona

fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a

"Niiiiiice c*ck." No one is amused but me.

9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of

a can. Needless to say, they do not

sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by

an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no sh!t):

"Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic

footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig

and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I

run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is

now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher

walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can

of Bud Light.

9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost

my bearings. I have no ticket stub.

I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.

10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I

have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating

the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I

shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to f**k off.

10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f**king call

I have EVER seen, " I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating

inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail

myself in my left eyelid, leaving a

one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all

over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit

seriously."

10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I

am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants

are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look

like I should be in an episode of Cops.

10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on

my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good

samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely

grunt incoherently and keep moving.

10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking

garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I

will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the

truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice

that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and

no one is moving. I take a nap.

11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's

seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is

lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving.

I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker."

11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and

notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole

flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker."

11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and

notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole

flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker."

11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and

notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole

flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker."

11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to

look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on

the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking

facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at

me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around pee on the front

of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon."

12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the

truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am

happy. I return to my vehicle

12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make

our way to my apartment and

find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the

coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight.

12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of

Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's.

Ed has to pee. He walks down the

hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the

hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave

for PollyEsther's.

1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our

efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of

spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been

working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I

ain't never seen three drunker mother f**kers than you three.

Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs

harder.

1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in

the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and

mutter: "See, dat wasn't that f**kin' hard. Day don't f**kin' do that at

the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...f**k it, that stadium we was at

today..." We order 6shots of

tequila and three beers.

2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail cab to take

us the two and one half blocks to Denny's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him

$10 and tell him to keep it.

2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We

are seated immediately.

2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a

bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a

hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion

rings.

2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on

the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f**king bit of our food. Most of

the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a f**k. The tab is

$112 with tip.

2:46 I'm sleepy.

9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is a waitress

at Denny's. She is not pretty.

HOOK 'EM HORNS, BABY!!!