Saturday, Sept. 8

By Sunny Wu

Sep 25, 2001, 12:00 AM

Here are my plans for that glorious fall day: 9 a.m. Wake up. No need to brush teeth; Scope will suffice. 9:35 a.m. Pick up the two cheapest kegs at Husky Beverage (5201 University Way N.E., (206) 517-4331). Yes, sir, Red Dog will be delicious this fine Saturday morning. 9:49 a.m. Tap keg, take the first swig. Pour some in the bowl full of Wheaties, the breakfast of champions. 10 a.m. Watch the video, The Perfect Season, the highlight take of the UW's championship season. 10:41 a.m. Start the barbecue. 11:11 a.m. Fill flask with tequila (or close friend Jack). Make sure pockets are big enough to hide it. 11:45 a.m. Begin walk to Husky Stadium with my 40 best friends, then meet up with 70,000 or so of my other buddies. 11:47 a.m. Run back to house -- forgot tickets! 12:01 p.m. Heckle Michigan quarterback John Navarre during his warmups. Heckle Michigan coach Lloyd Carr for having two L's in his name. 12:35 p.m. Distract my friend with flask and steal his hat for the kick-off salutes. 12:41 p.m. Huskies score their first touchdown of the season. Rich Alexis scores on a 35-yard run through the gut of the Wolverine defense. Woof! Woof! 12:42 p.m. Hoist my friend Nick as he does push-ups on top of the crowd. 12:59 p.m. My roommate, linebacker Ben Mahdavi, sacks Navarro. Forgive him for not doing the dishes last week. 1:25 p.m. HuskyTron displays the Washington State score. WSU 0, Boise State 7. Laugh at those damn Cougars. 1:40 p.m. Sing the UW's fight song: "Bow down to Washington ... or something, something, something ... I don't know ... " 2:25 p.m. HuskyTron update: Oregon 31, Utah 17. Stadium emits massive groan. 2:53 p.m. Fourth quarter begins. Rediscover flask in right pocket, now a slick 98.6 degrees. 3 p.m. Is Harry the Husky a woman or a man underneath? 3:31 p.m. Game ends. UW 24, UM 17. Think national championship. 3:33 p.m. Begin the treacherous, half-mile walk back home. Curse the gods for allowing 70,000 to live. 3:53 p.m. Liver keeps telling me something. I think it's whispering, "You will age horribly." I ignore the voices in my stomach. Time to take a nap. 4:30 p.m. Wake up. What? Victory party at the Duchess Tavern (2827 N.E. 55th, 206-527-8606)? I'm there. Find a D.D. and let's roll. 4:35 p.m. Ahhhh, the Duchess (pronounced doo-shay by true connoisseurs). Find Husky legend Sonny Sixkiller and buy him a pitcher. Demand that he pours me a glass. 10:30 p.m. Where have I been the last six hours? Disturbed about the bruises on my arm but relieved I'm still functioning. 11:20 p.m. Donde esta mi casa? Why am I speaking Spanish? 11:24 p.m. Thar' she is! Mi casa, su casa. 11:59 p.m. Pop in two Advils. Close eyes. Smile. What a day. 12:04 a.m. Sudden thought: "Why am I in bed?" Realize I'm not a 12-year-old girl. Return to keg.

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