Where's Maddie?

This is a picture of the University Of Alabama football stadium. It was taken this past Saturday night at the UA vs. Hawaii game from a helicopter. I am somewhere in this picture with my bonus child, "D". Top deck, left side. There I am...see?

So we're sitting there watching the game and it is so crowded...largest attendance in the schools history. And it's hot. And we're sweaty. And we are on the side that faces the sun (which as just gone down minutes before) and we are sandwiched between a woman and her daughter on one side and a couple on the other. The wind starts blowing and funk assaults my nostrils. I'll try to describe it without going into all the graphic detail...you know how when a woman is...having an intimate relationship with Tampax or Kotex? Well...obviously the woman (not the one with the child) was having one and she was hesitant to depart from it. She had been sitting out in the hot sun and had not made any trips to the bathroom to 'take care of business and freshen up' in a really loooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnggggg time. Everyone following me?

So my nose hairs are burning and I want take my shirt off and make a makeshift gas mask. The bitch is rurnt. D looks at me and goes, "Dude...what's that smell?" What do you tell a seventeen year old young man? I tried to be as delicate as possible but I told him what I thought it was. So obviously the woman knows her knickers are kicking it, cause she leaves the game early. She has to walk in front of me and D. When I tell you the woman's bum passed not even three inches from our noses...D and I both looked at each other and D goes, 'Oh my God," as if he cannot even comprehend something smelling so foul. The wind is blowing hard to.

So our noses stop bleeding and the wind settles down. Then, the bottom fell out. D looks at me and says, "Dude...somebody's baby farted." I look around...no babies are anywhere in the vicinity. I'm thinking someone has a skid in their underwear after that one, cause it was horrific. I tell D to take his shirt off and wave it around in surrender. So for the rest of the night, we listen to the little girl beside us scream cheers the entire time, at the top of her lungs, even when we were doing bad, and she smells like poo.

Ah...nothing like football in Autumn.