
On the night of Nov. 12, 2005, under the lights of Sanford Stadium that suddenly seemed so harsh and glaring, I punched an Auburn fan.
OK, not really. I mean, no one really believes that, right? I’m 5’2” on a good day and have tiny hands that can’t cover the laces of a football – not to mention I was barely 21 and looked like I was 18. But I did give him a good, scary, Southern girl earful. You see, on that night, after the Deep South’s oldest rivalry ended with Auburn beating Georgia 31-30, this Auburn coed (as my beloved Loran Smith calls students) was happily, drunkenly and brutally kicking the beautiful green hedges lining our beloved field as I walked by.
No one kicks our hedges. No one. And he was no longer kicking them after that talking-to, either.
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