This weekend was the Can-Am Rugby tournament in Saranac Lake, New York. It's my most favorite weekend of the entire year. I get to spend ten hours in the car with Penn State ruggers, past and present, and remember once again the magical world I uncovered when Marcel kidnapped me at the involvement fair nine years ago. For two magnificent days, I get to wear a Penn State jersey again.
This year's adventure was just as much a drunken debacle as it is every year. We successfully sneaked a young Japanese player into a bar using an older Vietnamese player's ID, because apparently Adirondack bouncers think all Asians look the same. We told the bouncers we were there for my bachellorette party, so the whole crew of us only had to pay half the cover. We floated in Mirror Lake drinking nasty beers while watching an enormous person capsize a kayak. And we played some good rugby.
Sunday morning, we played against a team of ladies who traveled all the way here from Enniskillen, Ireland. Cheering from the sidelines before a scrum, one of their supporters yelled "Drive it like you stole it!" I laughed hysterically at this for two days, until I decided that's how I felt about the whole weekend. It all went by so fast, a huge blur of bagels and smelly jerseys and long conversations. It felt a bit like I was stealing a peek back into Penn State Rugby, the best thing to ever happen to me. Now that it's all over and I'm recovering with an ice pack on my neck, I wish we hadn't driven away from it all so quickly.