As tough as it was to watch my last Badger home football game come and go, the harder part was watching the complete atrocity that occurred in the fourth quarter. Yes, I know most folk were thrilled to see the brave band member who proposed to his girlfriend by having tubas march across the field with a message that read, ""Marry me, Kayla."" Why am I not happy for them? Maybe it's because I was planning on proposing to my girlfriend Sherry on our two-week anniversary AT THE SAME GAME! I was so outraged that he stole my idea that I wrote the culprit an angry letter. I thought about mailing it, but then I realized I had no idea who he was. So instead, I did the next logical option: I submitted it as a column in a college newspaper. Here it is:
An open letter to the band member guy who proposed to his girlfriend via tubas at the game last Saturday:
Hey buddy,
What's your deal? Huh? You think you're the only one who was planning on proposing to someone at the game? Well? Yeah, that's right. I was going to propose to my girlfriend at that game... I'll let you guess why I didn't!
And guess what? My proposal was going to kick yours right in its nether regions—it was that good! For starters, I had rock legend Peter Frampton dressed up as Bucky, ready to cartwheel his way up to Section O and sing ""Baby, I Love Your Way"" right after I got down and proposed.
As for my entrance, I was planning on excusing myself to go to the bathroom around the second quarter, hopping on a charter plane and parachuting down onto the field. After that, Bret Bielema agreed to give me a piggyback ride across the field to where my bride-to-be was waiting (he is a former pig farmer, after all). Then, the real Bucky Badger was going to do one push-up for every time Sherry and I had intercourse (don't worry, Bucky, it has only happened two-and-a-half times).
However, as I was parachuting down toward the stadium, I saw everyone cheering for you and your ""perfect"" little proposal and realized I'd be a total hack if I did my proposal now. So instead of landing on the field, I steered myself into the local dump and tried for the next four hours to get the smell of hot garbage off of my body. Thanks a lot, pal.
No—don't worry about it. It wasn't expensive at all to get the stadium technicians to display ""PLEASE MARRY ME SHERRY"" across the Jumbo-tron. Yeah, there's 500 bucks down the drain. Cool, just cool. Oh, don't feel bad. I had just arranged for the ENTIRE ALUMNI SECTION to create a giant portrait of my beautiful Sherry using oversized, color-coded squares as I proposed. I even had a back-up plan lined up. If she turned me down, I would signal to John Clay to score a touchdown, jump into the stands and deliver a football that had ""just marry the poor bastard"" scribbled on it.
And don't think I was the ONLY guy who planned on proposing to his girlfriend on the last Badger home game of their senior year. As I walked out of the stadium Saturday, I counted no fewer than 37 wedding rings in one of the garbage cans outside of the stadium. Gee, I wonder what those are from. I know! It's from guys who realized their masterful ""propose to her in front of thousands of people"" idea had been completely hijacked by some showboating tuba player.
Unfortunately, I forgot that I secretly hid the wedding ring in Sherry's nacho cheese sauce, and she accidentally swallowed it while dipping a tortilla chip. Otherwise, I'm sure my ring would've ended up in the garbage with all of the rest.
You're just lucky I didn't use my band connections to get a little revenge. Right after I heard about your little stunt, I almost hired some tuba players to follow your message with one that spelled ""he is cheating on you,"" but I decided not to at the last minute. I am a merciful man... that is, unless you steal my idea for the most brilliant honeymoon getaway ever. Wait, you're taking her to Afghanistan as well? Dammit! Not again!
Did the tuba proposal also ruin your picture-perfect plan for a romantic proposal? Tell Jon about it at spike@wisc.edu.
