An ironic trip to famous Cameron Indoor Stadium

DURHAM, N.C. — Any time a road trip starts with your friend choosing an Alanis Morissette album to kick things off, isn't that ironic?

No, it's not at all. But that's what happened on our trip down to Durham last week for the men's basketball game against Duke on Wednesday.

This, of course, begs the question, "Which of us — manliest of men — actually owned that CD?"

No comment.

Yes, even I swallowed the jagged little pill at one point in my younger and more vulnerable years. At least we got some entertainment out of it — rolling down I-95 trying to guess what Alanis' other hand was doing in each verse of "Hand in My Pocket." We were three-for-five.

Three of us left Princeton that day — Chris, my roommate, and Matt, our friend. Chris and I were doing the game for WPRB; Matt was coming for the heck of it. We also stopped in Richmond, Virginia to pick up another roommate, Nelson. When he gave me directions he told me to "look for the cannon out front."

Umm, I have a mailbox in front of my house.

We checked into our hotel for the night and promptly hooked up the Nintendo and busted out the poker chips. No matter how many times you beat Mario 3, it just never gets old.

After settling in we decided to check out the Durham social scene. It was nonexistent. The chitlins were still home for break. We went to what appeared to be a decent sports bar, and there were literally two other customers there for the majority of our meal. Plus, there was a banner that had the following NFL logos in sequence: Carolina, Tampa Bay, New York Giants, Jacksonville, Arizon, and then a random football graphic with the words "Minnesota Football 2004" written across it. This would be like a banner that shows the flags of the U.S., Poland, Namibia, Papua New Guine, and China and then has a graphic that says "European Union Countries 2004."

As we went to bed post-poker that night, Matt spotted a fortuitous omen outside the hall window — a neon white sign reading "International House of Pancakes."

I asked to borrow the waitress' pen at the IHOP the next morning.

"Are you gonna give it back?"

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No. No, I was planning to make a break for it. You caught me. Chronic pen stealer.

After breakfas, we scoped out Duke's campus, which actually has trees and grass and stuff. It's weird, like some kind of Wilderness World.

Cameron Indoor Stadium, much to my dismay, is not located next to a Cameron Outdoor Stadium. Think of all the time that has been wasted typing and saying the word "indoor" in reference to that building when it is a completely unnecessary distinction. We could've used that time to save a tree in the rainforest or something. Isn't it ironic?

I was further disappointed because with all you hear about fabulous Cameron Indoor Stadium, I half-expected it to be this giant building with lookout towers, a moat, flashing lights and a scrolling marquee that bragged about Wayne Newton headlining the pregame festivities. Alas, it is merely another building on campus. But it is an indoor building, at least.

Every other basketball venue on the planet lets the radio and TV folk sit courtside, but not at precious Duke. To get to the Cameron Upstairs Press Box, we had to go up to the main concourse, out into the stands, up the steps all the way to the back, up a ladder, over a pit of fire, through a minefield and across a lake filled with hungry hungry hippos.

For some reason we assumed Matt and Nelson would be able to find tickets no problem for this game. But they have this crazy thing that happens at Duke games — they "sell out." It means they don't have any tickets left for the general public.

I know.

The price to buy from a scalper would have been $100. For the North Carolina game it will be anywhere from $1200 to $1500.

Not exactly Princeton-Penn.

We were able to get Matt and Nelson in through an elaborate scheme of press-pass sneaking that involved me making a trip down to the entrance with the extra press pass, pretending that Matt was my tech guy, leading him back up to the booth, then taking the press pass back down to another entrance to fetch Nelson and pretend the same. I lost five pounds in this process and was bitten by one hippo named Steve.

The game was relatively predictable — Princeton kept it close but Duke is just too Dukie. If only we had hit a few more of those threes. The Tigers did about as well on their three-point attempts as I did on bluff attempts at poker — 1-for-17. For those keeping score, that's 3-35 at Cameron in the last two games for Princeton. Makes you wonder what if.

I'm convinced the Duke fan chants of "you can't dunk" to the Tiger players during the pregame warm-ups rattled us a little. All of a sudden Will Venable, Judson Wallace and Noah Savage are all dropping the hammer and Matt Sargeant is, well, trying.

A layup by Wallace with 13 minutes, 34 seconds left cut the Duke lead to seven before DeMarcus Nelson dropped a three through the nylon on the next Blue Devil possession. The Tigers got it back to eight but consecutive turnovers by Venable on the next two Princeton possessions cost the team a chance to cut into the lead any further.

And that's the way it is with Princeton against the ranked powers of the college basketball world. The team always gives itself a chance, but we're just one or two sequences, one or two good spurts away from making it a game.

We unsuccessfully searched for a place to have dinner after the game. Everywhere we checked out closed by 10, which seems like a good policy because you definitely want to discourage young people from spending the money they don't know how to manage. Frustrated, we decided to go back and order pizza, first stopping at a gas station for some libations to take back to our Holiday Indoor Express.

"Minnesota," the clerk noted, checking my ID. "Y'all come from far away."

Yes. We're from Princeton. Here for basketball.

"Oh. You a Duke fan?"

No. You're not listening to me —

"If you in Durham, you gotta be either for Duke or Carolina."

What if I choose both? Will my head explode?

"You're not driving home tonight are ya?" he asked, sliding the paper bag across the counter.

Yes. We just wanted to tip a few before we hit the road. You have figured us out.

"They'll get ya and arrest ya here in Durham for that."

What about murder? Do they get you for murder, too? Or is that allowed in Durham?

We returned Thursday morning, tired from another long poker night. I read poetry to Nelson in his sleep again. He doesn't like that very much.

The long strange trip concluded with us coasting up Elm Drive blasting Alanis' hardcore soul rock, one hand in my pocket and the other one holding the wheel. The irony astounds.