As I was checking out Candace Salima's blog this morning, I was reminded that today is the big annual BYU and Utah football war. I must confess, I am not really a rabid football fan, although I am always interested in the news about the local team or BYU. I actually went to every home game and most of the away games in high school, but that was because I was in the pep band and I was required to be there. Once I was at a game, I would cheer just like everyone else, because I knew the guys out on the field. That's what made the game interesting for me.
But Candace's post reminded me of another year when I attended every football game at BYU. I saw a notice on the job board on campus that they were hiring students to work at the stadium during games, and you were allowed to work this job even with another on-campus job. I was already working as a part-time secretary in the Statistics Department, so I had to wear a dress to school every day. I showed up to the interview and then the orientation in a skirt and heels versus everyone else's jeans and sweatshirts. I'm pretty sure this is why I was singled out to run one of the VIP elevators to transport visitors up to the boxes at the top of the stadium.
They stationed me inside the visiting team's elevator. The other elevator was for the BYU VIPs, like visiting general authorities (I was sooo jealous). My job was to transport the visiting assistant coaches who would be watching the game from above and doing whatever it is assistant coaches do up there. They were priority and when it was time for them to go up or down, the elevator had to be waiting and ready. The rest of the time I ferried the other team's supporters who had purchased seats in the box. These people were invariably well-dressed and important looking. Occasionally, I could lock the elevator up at the top and walk out to ask the concessions workers what the score was. If the cougars happened to score while I was up there, we all looked pretty weird, silently jumping around and giving each other high fives. (We couldn't make any noise because we were right behind the broadcasters.)
My favorite memory is of some team from Texas. Their fans were dressed just as you would expect, from the top of their big old sweat-free cowboy hats to the tips of their snakeskin boots which had never come closer to a cow than being worn to a steak house. I was wearing my best BYU blue dress. Well, on the way up these good ole' boys were pretty confident and loud. The Cougars proceeded to kick their butts (the team, not the dignitaries). As they filed back onto the elevator, the good ole' boys were ominously silent, except for one man who looked at me and growled, "Don't you say a word!" I had a hard time holding back my grin on the long, long ride back down.