First of all I think this website is great. A brotherhood of guys all sharing the same damned problem, from all walks of life. I’ve only been a member for a short while but I like everyone already. I welcome anyone who’s got a funny story about their dip past to add a comment, I would love to read it.
So I like high school football. Who doesn’t? I mean you pay a small fee, see the hometown crowd cheering on their team, and anything can happen; and there’s no bullshit contracts or overly paid athletes. I’m a high school teacher as well so it’s cool to get involved and go to the games and see the students I teach knock each other around. (I only wish I was back out there.) There’s also nothing better than when two cross town rivals duke it out for city bragging rights. My brother’s step-son goes to our cross town rival’s high school, and we’re constantly talking shit about who’s the better team, etc. He decides one night to convince me to go to one of their games. Feeling like a traitor, I agree. Nearly every Friday night we go together to whatever is the “game-of-the-week” for that night. One hour before each game I usually call him to get the heads up on where to meet and our conversations typically go a little something like this: “Hey, you got any PID?” Which is our code word for dip when the wives (don’t know we still dip) might be in ear shot. “No? Ok, I’ll go get a fresh can.” Meet me at the field.
So we show up with jackets, chairs, a fresh can of Kodiak wintergreen, and a bottled water. Almost always one of us is short a spittoon of some sort. My brother is usually the one without a spittoon and he’s usually annoyed that I thought to get myself a spittoon and didn’t get him one. So we hit the snack bar to get another bottled water, or can, or whatever we can spit our foul slime into. This particular night my spittoon is a bottle of peach Snapple. It’s full with Snapple so I quickly down most of it to make room for my saliva.
The kick-off happens in splendid fashion, and it’s a chilly, stadium packed night. All good things. Now let’s discuss dip rules. You know, everyone’s got them. Like one of the rules we used to have when dipping cope was keeping talking to a minimum. Everyone’s enjoying their buzz – leave me the fuck alone! One universal rule is lidding, or making your spittoon spill proof. Now most of the time this is achieved by way of napkins or paper towels or bottle cap but its sole purpose is the dip stays when the spittoon is overturned. Keep this in mind.
First half ends, it’s a close, exciting game. Halftime show begins with the marching band doing something rather gay, usually, and a whole shit load of people going to the snack bar to eat, shit or piss. Sitting in front of us during the first half is a mom, dad, and their rather hot daughter and her friend. My brother is on my left, I’m on the right, and two women are sitting on the bleacher in front of me to the right. The family in front of us along with the two hotties got up and left, so the whole bench is open in front of us. Now the whole band thing is coming to a climax, and we’re dipping and enjoying the Friday Night Lights… until.
We stood up to applaud the band since they did a pretty good job this time, and when everyone was done cheering we sat down. Moments later I feel a rather strong nudge coming from my brother. I look at him only to find his eyes are the size of golf balls and he’s staring intently at the bleacher in front of us. He said something like, “You gotta lid that shit!” I looked forward and noticed time slowed a bit, kind of like when you’re in a car accident or you blow a loud fart in front of someone you didn’t know was standing behind you at the grocery store. From one end of the bleacher (where the family and the two hotties were) to where the ladies were sitting, was a giant brown cess-pool of dip, saliva and peach Snapple. And there sat my spittoon on its side, lidless! The cess-pool of my DNA and Snapple was beginning to pool against the blanket the two women to my right were sitting on. The woman’s blanket was acting like a sort of dam which kept my dip spit from soaking into her jeans.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!!!”, was all that I was thinking. I looked at the two women who I noticed were oblivious. I looked behind me and the people behind were either gone or oblivious. “No one noticed! Yeah!” Wait, what? Ok now look for something to wipe it up. Nothing, FUCK! My brother was pale, I was paler. My brother immediately gets up and splits. For a second I almost followed. “I could slip away and just act like nothing happened.” I said to myself. Before my bro leaves he turns around and says he’s going to get something to wipe it up. Now I’m stuck trying to look as big as possible to cover the whole nasty mess so the people behind me can’t see. The two women are engulfed in conversation. Around this time the hotties begin to ascend the stairs. “Ok, just pretend your nasty dip spit isn’t there.” So I looked out onto the field with a 1000 yard stare.
First off, my brother and I know damn well everyone around us saw we were dipping. I know the hotties saw. I wish I could have taken a photo of my face and the look on the girl’s faces when they walked up and saw my gift. The blonde one stared for a long time at it. Probably not knowing what the fuck to do – wretch I’m guessing. Her eyes followed the dip pool to where it dammed up to the woman’s blanket, then to the woman, then slowly to me, who acted like nothing happened. She stared a hole through the side of my face. She whispered something to her friend and they sat further down. There I sat as all the fans slowly returned and saw the mess. I felt so small that a child could have flicked me like a booger. I melted into the bleachers, all the time staring off into the distance as if to say “what?” My bro finally returns (which seemed like an eternity) with a shit load of napkins. He basically said later he opened the napkin dispenser and took the whole wad. We quickly threw it over the mess and let it soak. Meanwhile the women are still conversing. Finally I figured I needed to man up and tell the lady her blanket has been turned into a dam for my Kodiak wintergreen/Snapple/gooey spit surprise. It was like telling someone that you had diarrhea, you shit on their leg, you could have prevented it but didn’t, well you get the picture.
She looked down for a good 3-4 seconds and smiled, saying it was ok. “Lady, are you fucking kidding me?” This isn’t coke. I mean there’s were bits of tobacco floating in it, and the smell of peach Snapple mixed with saliva and wintergreen made puke seem dandy. She pushed her blanket aside and I begged her to let me go wash it in the bathroom sink. She allowed and I quickly scurried away.
Long story short, make sure to lid your shit, oh never mind, I gave it up. This is just one of the many reasons I’m glad to say I quit chew. To this day my brother and I can hardly stop laughing at that story.