As part of the annual build-up for Ohio's rivalry game with Miami, I would like to share a tale about one of the reasons that has led me to despise those green beer drinkers of Miami - we all know they drink green beer to be like Ohio.
In a time not too long ago, a week before classes began at Ohio University for Fall Quarter 2005, I found myself missing friends that had already departed for the school year.
Living in the suburbs of Cincinnati, I have many friends that attend that dreaded preppy institution of Miami, less than an hour to the north.
Now I know that friends don't let friends go to Miami, but true friends must be let go and return on their own, or something like that.
Anyway, I found myself with a couple friends traveling up to the lovable land of Charlie Coles and the RedHawk nation, or as Coles would put it, Students bring books to the basketball game and study.
My mission to Oxford was simply to surprise a high school friend with a visit one last time before I, too, departed for college.
Now this friend belongs to a fraternity, and this fraternity, which will remain nameless, was hosting a party on this particular night. I am not an endorser of greek life, but to each his own.
However, once I arrived, I was impressed to find the popped-collar nation had not infiltrated this certain corner of the campus, and I began to enjoy the party.
The party was in full swing, and I'm surprised the cops did not come, not because of rowdiness or underage drinking but because of weapons of mass destruction.
Every girl at the party was wearing pointy shoes that I'm sure would not be allowed to be worn on planes for their ability to stab and crush through bone.
Despite the constant threat of a potential high-heeled massacre looming, I enjoyed the party and especially the quality music that was being played. There was something for everyone; pop, country, dance, hip hop.
However, my friends and I wanted to hear some classic rock. We made our plea to the gentleman with a lavender popped polo controlling the music for some classic rock - for example, some Allman Brothers or George Thorogood.
Surprisingly, the young man was nice enough to hear our requests. However, this is where the story takes a turn, which has since deepened my hatred for Miami like no other incident.
I peered over this master of ceremonies' shoulder to watch him enter Almond Brothers into his search list of music.
My jaw, as well as the jaws of my non-Miami friends, dropped to the floor, went into the floor and came out somewhere in China.
This is merely one incident that has helped me create the foundation of my hatred toward Miami students. I'm sure there are others out there with similar stories of Miami ignorance on subjects not relating to Docker-pleated pants and Lacoste shirts.
Therefore, I encourage the entire student body, especially the rowdiest of the O-Zone, to let Miami have it when they ramble into The Convo on Sunday.
Let's send Miami home with a loss despite their best efforts of tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best they can.
- Nick Brockman is a sophomore journalism major. Send him an e-mail at nb244904@ohiou.edu.
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Nick Brockman
