Pre-gaming: Just remember there's also a game

After a long season of watching a Terrapin football team that has made us all cringe, I've come to the realization that my favorite part of these disasters comes long before the game starts.  We all know what I'm talking about here: pre-gaming.

Now, be it a dismal football game, a rowdy night at Comcast Center or even just your standard night of overpaying for drinks at College Park bars, I think we can all agree that the pre-game festivities are a big ball of awesome.  What I've begun to notice, however, is that a good chunk of the greater populace of university students is taking the notion of the "warm-up drink" a bit too far.

Take sporting events for example.  We all love to tailgate with a good, old-fashioned marathon beer harvest, which can turn even the ugliest of contests into something just shy of a national title game. But I have to say, a little discretion should be warranted.  I'm not saying you should go out and sip on fuzzy navels while you read The Great Gatsby until game time, but if you find yourself struggling to remember which stadium you're supposed to walk to and the clock hasn't even struck noon, you may want to pump the brakes on that next Jägermeister and Yoo-Hoo.  Our fan-base seems to pride itself on becoming very asshole-dense already. I think it's maybe not the best idea for an army of blacked-out idiots trying their best not to fall off the bleachers to fill the student sections.

Let's not forget about the bar scene either, my friends.  It is true that our bars have quickly gotten a little pricey and surely you are all tired of hearing the tales from your friend at West Virginia University about the penny pitcher night, the nickel vodka bucket or the dollar drink-your-way-out-of-the-rum tank.  If you're like me, you've also noticed that a night out at The Thirsty Turtle begs for some hard pre-gaming if you wish to overcome the sheer awkwardness of saying hello with your crotch.  That being said, I have to once again call for some restraint.  I can't tell you how much you'll wish you would have paced yourself after you drink one garbage bucket and wake up with your head in a gas station toilet.

I know I'm not the only one who is tired of dealing with these kids.  It's not my fault that you thought 15 shots out of a plastic bottle wasn't that much for you, so I shouldn't have to wait in line while you're passed out in the bathroom at Ratsie's.  So all of you fans and partygoers out there who want to lube up the old inhibition machine before the big dance, I say go right ahead — I'd be happy to join you. But if you insist on taking things too far, just remember that I warned you.

Mike DiMarco is a senior English major. He can be reached at dimarco at umdbk dot com.