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For Whom the Belle Tolls For Whom the Belle Tolls

Hurricane Helene and Homecoming

This weekend was an adventure. Hurricane Helene stormed her way through the Southeast last week, causing flooding, downed trees, power outages and more, just in time for us to make our way to Clemson for homecoming. As we left town Friday at lunch, we were completely unaware of just how hard the area had been hit. Neighborhoods around us were without electricity but we still had ours, so we made our way around a few trees that had fallen and headed toward Clemson and what we assumed was about to be a carefree weekend of tailgating and football fun.

Our first moment of truth came as we stopped at multiple gas stations, all jam-packed with cars at pumps that didn’t work. Inside, the shelves were empty, picked clean. There was no gas, no food, no ice. Our cell phones were going in and out of something called “SOS mode,” which was disturbing to say the least. We reached Clemson and saw that traffic lights were out and half of the downtown businesses had power while the other half did not. Due to the weather, the homecoming displays had already been taken down, which gave Bowman field an eerie, half-destroyed look. And imagine how my heart sank when we found out that our hotel was one of the unfortunate establishments that did not have power. Oh. My. Word.

Determined to make the best of it, we took the free pocket flash light we were given at check-in (ah, perks!) and climbed the stairs to our very dark room. I made a quick playlist to set the mood (“I Can See Clearly Now,” “I Love A Rainy Night,” “Rock You Like a Hurricane”) and we lit a candle and broke open some snack mix. How bad could it be?

This is not what I think of when they say "Friday Night Lights."

Hurricane party!

As we settled into bed Friday night, I (ever-so-foolishly) said, “Well, by the time we get back from the game tomorrow night, the power will be back on and this will all be over.” Right. I admire my wishful thinking whilst also curse myself for saying things like that out loud. Because while the power company had said they would have things restored by noon on Saturday, it did not quite work out that way . Which led folks to get resourceful.

This is one of my favorite moments of the weekend. These girls used the generator from the pickup truck for their curling iron to fix their hair. After all, it's game day.

Thank goodness my friend Megan was down the street at a hotel with electricity, so I took my overnight bag and all of my beauty supplies to her Saturday morning and got ready for the game. We headed to the tailgate and compared stories with our crew about estimated power restoration times, tree damage, best use of generator power…misery loves company. We were all grateful to have a distraction, and frankly, the tailgate amenities were the nicest we had seen since we left Charlotte.

Did we make a frozen bourbon cocktail and transport it from Charlotte on dry ice for the game? Naturally. No trouble at all. 

Orange and grape popcorn, just to keep it festive.

I have so many dietary restrictions, I always insist on a veggie tray. But I at least try to make it fun. See? The paw is fun. 

Not that we really needed them Saturday, but Megan and I were twinning in our matching Clemson sunnies.

Hurricane or no, it's so good to be with these friends. 

You cannot put a damper on our gameday good times. 

Okay, so I was supposed to be taking it really easy with my rheumatoid arthritis. But then "Whoomp, There It Is" came on the playlist. So we whoomped. And later, lidocaine patches.

And then Megan served us all up a Lot Shot! Gooo Tigers! Almost game time....

I rarely ask for photos with people who are better dressed than I am, but check out this dapper Clemson gentleman we passed on our way to the game. He made sure to show me his matching Clemson needlepoint belt and wallet as well. 

We had fantastic seats in the West End Zone and our Tigers beat Stanford 40-14! Night games in Death Valley are so much fun. 

I was exhausted and achy by halftime, so we made our way back to what I had hoped were the relaxing confines of our hotel. Imagine the disappointment when we arrived at that Clemson Comfort Inn to find it still pitch black, lit by emergency lanterns, and even stuffier and more stifling than the morning when we left it. As much as I hated to, we quickly packed our bags and decided it was time to call off the crusade. We drove back to Charlotte, where a hot shower and the cool of some air conditioning never felt so good.

We will add this escapade to our list of Clemson adventures—and between the2015 Notre Dame hurricane game, my wall jump ankle break going down onto the field after beating Louisville in 2016, and all my years in school there (years not to be named), there are loads of stories to tell. We came, we tried, we made the best. My heart goes out to everyone affected by the storm who is still cleaning up and will be for weeks to come. It was an unusual homecoming this year, but no matter what, Clemson always feels like home.

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