I know I’m going to sound like somebody’s grandma sitting on the front porch telling tales of how things used to be while gnats swarm around her head, but fuck it.
Before the night life scene ever found its way to my rest stop of a fucking city the only major entertainment the towns people could rely on was attending high school football games in the fall. Friday Nights Light shit.
Our squad was (and still is) an unstoppable beast but our marching band was (and still is) about as flavorful as an unseasoned microwaved chicken thigh. The only time my half ratchet half siddity mama could be bothered with making a surprise guest cameo at Chris Gilman stadium was when Savannah High rolled through with their marching band. Long story short, I think this was the feeling she was always chasing after.