Active Shooter
by Hank Cotton
Trigger Warning: This fictional story contains Gun Violence, and a Suggestive Theme that could be harmful to anyone who suffers from forms of PTSD, or is sensitive to such subjects. Explicit Language.
It would be a very long day — kickoff wasn’t until 8 PM, but we’d agreed to leave around 10 AM. I jumped out of bed as soon as the alarm trumpeted. It’s game day baby!
The south Georgia weather was wreaking havoc on my sinuses. It was in the 80’s last week — the high on Monday had been 52, and it was going to be in the 70’s today. A perfect fall football day. But first, I needed a hot shower to break things loose.
Brooke and I were ready to go by 10 when the phone rang. I couldn’t make out what Tanner was saying, but just the fact that he was calling told me that he was running late — as usual. Today will be my 70th Georgia game, and Tanner figured we’d been to over half-a-hundred together. So, I am well accustomed to waiting for my ride to Athens.
“Tanner’s still at home isn’t he?” Brooke also knows him well.
“I don’t know for sure. But yeah, probably — or just leaving. His phone service sucks ass, and he lives in the sticks you know.
I topped off my coffee cup and grabbed my journal.
11-15-25 Well Tanner is most likely running an hour behind, as usual. I’ll take this as a good sign. There’s no real rush anyway, kickoff isn’t for 10 hours. And I’m in no rush to get there. I won’t admit this to anyone, but I don’t really want to go today. Something just doesn’t feel right. Idk, maybe it’s just these damned sinuses. But I’d be just fine hanging here and watching the game with the kids. Am I over it all? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just for now. In a couple of years the little ones will be big enough to go, and that’ll be wonderful! It’s funny how our priorities change in life. Boy, there were years when I’d have given anything to go to see Georgia vs Texas, and in Athens too! So, I’m going to make the most of this day. It doesn’t matter how the game goes, or what time we get there, just that I am present. I’m going to take it all in today. Go Dawgs!
I closed my journal and tried him again — straight to voicemail. Oh well, I reckon he’ll get here when he gets here. But he and May pulled up just about as soon as I sat the phone back on the ottoman.
“Good morning y’all, sorry I’m running late,” Tanner said as he rushed through the front door, in a beeline for the watercloset.
I answered with, “Go Dawgs! No worries homie, we’ve got loads of time.”
I greeted May as she entered, and was surprised when she responded immediately with a big smile. She’s usually very quiet. Which, I can understand why. This isn’t her home country. And while her English is very good, she doesn’t seem to have much confidence when speaking it.
We hit the road at 11:05 AM, the map says we’ll be at Sanford Stadium at 2:40. The trip up goes well, so there’s nothing much to tell there. We stop and get gas at Boone’s grocery in Jacksonville, Ga. And stop again at a Dollar General in Milledgeville — because I’d forgotten to put on deodorant this morning.
This trip has a much different feel than games I’ve attended in the past. Most of those rides up were filled with booze and whatever drug I could put my hands on. But I’m not that man anymore — I rarely drink these days. And I don’t want anything to do with any of that other shit. Just give me my dab-pen and I’m good to go. There’s little doubt that me and Snoop will be smoking til the day we die.
All Tanner can seem to talk about is his new favorite restaurant, Cava. It’s some kind of cafeteria style, build-your-own-salad-bowl bullshit, or something. I know that I won’t like it, but it’s fine. I’m sure I can find something to eat there. And all three of them will love it… It did suck. But I was able to get the kids pita, with just grilled chicken and rice on it for under $10. And I’m no longer hungry, so mission accomplished.
Btw- when I went to the restroom before we left, one of the workers was back there in the hallway eating a Popeye’s wing basket meal.
My mouth started watering immediately, “Bruh I’d have bought both of our meals if I’d known you were going there.”
“Haha, I hear ya. I get a discount, and I don’t eat this fucking rabbit food,” he said as the restroom door swung closed.
There’s nothing like a Saturday in Athens — the Classic City does not disappoint. I’ve been to many games, on many campuses over the past 20 years or so. And I can tell you that the game day vibe up and around Clark County Georgia, isn’t to be rivaled. As soon as you cross the Oconee river you can feel the buzz. The UGA campus sits right down town — its famous arches are the only thing that separate the majestic campus from the Classic City. There’s an electricity in the air that not even a terrorist could dampen.
It’s close to 5:00 PM now. And we’re headed straight from the underwhelming lunch to the stadium. I must pause now to say that as expected, all three of the others in our party think that Cava is the best thing since sliced bread. It just ain’t my style y’all.
So anyway, the obstacle now is to find a parking spot. There are DOT signs everywhere, telling fans that “Gameday Parking Rules are in Effect.” And they’ll boot or tow your shit in a fucking heartbeat up here — so you wanna be careful about where you park. You do not want to mess around and have your ride wearing a boot when the game ends at midnight. No Sir.
“Wanna check our spot on Church street? It’s still early enough, we might get lucky,” I suggested.
“Sure but, wasn’t there an issue the last time? It seems like I remember we tried, but still ended up paying for a parking spot.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember if it was because we were late, or something was different.” I replied, “Wasn’t that when we backed up that hill, that no one else could make it up?”
“Maybe, I thought that was the Alabama game. It’s hard to keep track after so many,” Tanner said as he passed Church Street.
“Ah, that was it dawg. Whatcha doing?”
“That truck is in the middle of the road, I’m going around the block. Plus, it looks like the west side of the road was painted yellow.”
“Damnit. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t park there last time?”
It wasn’t looking good, there was nothing after the first and second turn. The vehicles were sandwiched in like two fat kids on a free carnival ride. We were discussing what to do next as we turned onto Church Street and then BOOM, the perfect spot appeared! It was hella tight, so I got out to help direct him in. And we made it without incident. We were even parked in the right direction for the end of the game!
If you’ve ever been to a big time college football game then you know, but if not let me tell you. You’re looking at an hour of traffic after the game, at the very best. And it can get much, much worse if you’re unlucky.
We got our things together, which didn’t amount to much. We’re not drinking, so there’s no cooler to haul around. The temp was a perfect 72 degrees, and only supposed to fall to around 60 by the end of the game. So we all just grabbed a sweatshirt and started walking towards the stadium.
It was promising to be a wonderful day — I’d forgotten all about that uneasy feeling I had earlier that morning. It must’ve been nothing, maybe it’s just that my relationship with many of the things that I used to place such an importance on, have changed since the time before. I’m pretty sure that the last time I’d arrived at Sanford stadium sober, was on my first ever visit — back when I was 10 or 12 maybe? I went with the 4-H club in middle school.
“I think this is where the picture was taken,” I said as we walked past the well groomed colonial houses. Every odd one had music playing, and party goers in the yard.
“No, I think it’s on the next block, sugar,” Brooke replied.
And sure enough, she was right. As soon as we crossed the next street I could see my three little cheerleaders, walking ahead behind me. It’s my favorite picture, one that I dared not look at for many years. It was taken on one of many G-Days that we took our girls to — the three girls following behind Dad, Mama pulling up the rear with the camera. I will cherish those memories for the rest of my life. And soon, we’ll have two new little ones to bring up here in the spring — I can’t wait!
The vibe changes very little as we leave the cobblestone sidewalks of the Classic City’s residential neighborhoods, and cut through the public housing. Yeah we could walk around to Baxter Street, but it adds a considerable distance. And over all the years, we’ve never had the slightest bit of trouble. It’s clean, and the residents wave like old friends as you pass them having their own game day celebrations. Grills are fired up left and right, and there’s been times in the past that we’ve fell right in there with’em.
“Go Dawgs!” Is called out, and answered repeatedly during the walk.
We stop by the porta-potty’s before we reach Baxter, and soon are crossing College Avenue onto campus. I began to notice something very different, something’s missing — where are all the ticket scalpers? I began to watch for them now. None. Nada. Zilch.
I slowed my pace so that Tanner and May could catch us, “Have you noticed that there aren’t any ticket scalpers, or even anybody looking for tickets?”
“Wow there aren’t, are there?” Tanner answered as he himself started scanning the crowd.
“There’s someone,” I said, pointing. And I made a beeline for the man holding two fingers in the air, almost tripping up Brooke in the process.
There wasn’t too much foot traffic yet. But she’d already assumed her position — right and tight. We can slide through a crowd like a hot knife through butter baby. Anyway, I asked the guy how the whole thing works now that all the tickets are digital.
“Don’t you have to worry about being scammed?” I asked. “I mean, couldn’t someone just sell you a screenshot, or cancel after you walk away and they’ve got your cash?”
“Not if you do it right,” was the gentleman’s response.
Then he explained how you need to make sure that you have the ticket not only transferred to you, but also accept it. And it all has to be done through your Ticketmaster account. Satisfied with this new knowledge I thanked the man, wished him luck, and we exchanged a, “Go Dawgs,” as my posse and I continued up towards the Tate Student Center.
I’m a much better leader in situations such as this, than I am a follower. Brooke on the other hand — boy let me tell ya, she’ll stick on ya like white on rice. She does the same thing when following in a car — I swear she doesn’t leave a foot in between the two vehicle bumpers. When you look back it looks like you’re towing whatever she’s following in! So like I was saying — I’m not a very good follower, and we lost Tanner and May not 100 yards from the man hunting two tickets. I called him, and he said that he was showing May his name on the Graduate’s Plaque. They aren’t far from us, the plaques sit in between the Book Store and Student Center.
“So what y’all wanna do?” I asked our group when Brooke and I caught up with them at the plaques. “We’ve got almost three hours until kickoff.”
“Why don’t we walk down to the Dawg Walk?” Tanner offered. “Maybe we’re early enough that we can get a decent view.”
“Hell yeah dawg,” I agreed. “That’s a banger, let’s do it.”
We stopped by some freebies on the way. Tanner’s always up for free food — he and May would both get in line, then he’d eat both meals. So by the time we visited the Mike’s Sub, and Avocados de Mexico stands, it was about a half hour before the Dawg Walk would commence. The crowd at the Walk was more than ten deep by then, so we stopped on the large concrete stairs leading from the Tate Center down to Field Drive.
I was looking to rest my legs. So after Brooke declined, I hopped up on the ledge of the stairs. I’d have a better view from up there anyways. The scene was electric! I love to people-watch, and there’s no better place to watch people than at an event like this. You’ve got families of all shapes and sizes. There are oldies, and of course the college aged kids are everywhere. If I had to guess, there were probably ten-thousand people within my view. I could see clear to College Street — that’s where the buses were going to pull up to let the team out.
Like clockwork, the first bus pulled up at 6:00 PM and let Hairy Dawg and a few of the cheerleaders out.
“Hey it’s starting y’all,” I told the group. “There’s Hairy...”
I was interrupted by a loud crack — followed by the echo of a rifle boom. Instinct had me off the ledge in an instant, and covering Brooke before I heard the second shot. I screamed at Tanner to get down, then grabbed May’s pants and yanked her down too.
