It was the night of Kentucky’s Final Four win against Wisconsin. The final minutes of the Big Game are ticking down. Patrick suggests that we all go to State Street if Kentucky wins, to “witness the madness.” State Street is a residential area of the University of Kentucky’s campus where a lot of students live. There were reported couch burnings there in 2012, and complaints about not enough police to handle the riotous scenario. So we all agree to go, even me, which shocks the group. Normally I would be terrified to be in a near-riot, with all those strangers pressing up against me!
Then Aaron Harrison hits the final 3-pointer to win the game by one point, and Patrick immediately grabs the keys. We all pile into the Mercury Mountaineer and head downtown. We get to the Football Stadium and figure that’s the closest place we’ll be able to park, so we do so. We start walking to State Street, and I immediately regret my decision to tag along. Everybody is walking at a rather brisk pace, and it is absolutely killing my injured foot.
As we walk, cars pass by us wildly blowing their horns. People walk around us, shouting and “woo”-ing and making all sorts of noise. Patrick is very enthusiastic in returning all this noise back to the passers-by. I remember him shouting, “One more game! We got one more game! We can do this!” I was drunk as hell, of course, and totally in a daze.
Then we round a corner, and it’s like the local madhouse opened all its doors onto the street. People are packed shoulder to shoulder down the middle of the road, all celebrating and screaming their heads off. Patrick tells us he knows somebody who lives on State Street, so that possibly we can watch the madness from a comfortable spot inside for awhile. We try to meet them, but for some reason they stop responding to his texts and phone calls. We are adrift in a sea of bodies. Patrick turns to me and says, “I don’t think we’ll be able to meet up, we should probably go back.”
That’s when I notice the Riot Police. They’re fully suited up, masks and everything, and stationed every five feet or so along a long, menacing line on either side of the road. We even witness them pummeling a young man for making too much of a disturbance. We’ve walked quite a ways (probably half a mile) so I grab hold of Patrick’s coat and start following him back to the vehicle. Suddenly a huge firework goes off in the sky right in front of us and everyone cheers. Then another equally large one goes off right on the ground in the middle of the road!
The walk back to the vehicle is about the same as the walk in. Foot traffic clears out after we walk a couple of blocks, and vehicle traffic is still fairly heavy. My foot is absolutely killing me, I am limping like a cripple. Patrick pulls the truck up, we all climb in and head home.
All in all, I probably shoudn’t have went, given the condition of my foot, but I’m glad I did, because Bro said it was something to “strike off the bucket list” and I guess it really was. “Being in a near-riot over a sporting event,” I guess I can say I’ve officially done that now.