Hey! You go to Penn State? I went there. God, I loved it! What do you think about those Lions? Looks good this year. I heard that Joepa . . ."

I sighed as I looked down at my tell-tale sweatshirt and realized that I had encountered yet another Penn State alumnus.

What's with these people anyway? It seems the moment a student receives his or her diploma and becomes an official Penn State alumni some sort of spell is cast --cast by thoughts of leaving the hallowed halls of the Forum, the lazy days on the HUB lawn, and the endless lines everywhere . . . leaving all this behind forever.

Suddenly, a person goes from being a student striving to get out into the real world to a person looking for a chance return to the security of Happy Valley. And the one thing that bonds Penn State alumni of all ages and walks of life to Penn State students of all ages and walks of life is football.

Penn State alumni appear to be perfectly normal people until football is mentioned -- and it always is. All of the sudden, the person's eyes glaze over and his or her speech becomes fast and high-pitched. This is the action of true Penn State alumni. These are the people that invest in Winnebagos solely for fall weekends and dress their offspring in lion suits in 90 degree weather! There is definitely something extraordinary here.

So, as this excited alumnus began sprinting down memory lane with me in tow, I let my mind wander back to my first meeting with Penn State alumni.

The first football game my freshman year, I attended a tailgate hosted by an old friend of my father.

I met this man, Mr. Bailey, at "the rock." He showed up wearing nothing but Penn State attire. I stifled a laugh when he turned to lead me to the tailgate and I saw lion pawprints traipsing across the backside of his shorts.

As we wandered through the maze of Winnebagos, vans and cars, I realized that Mr. Bailey's outfit was representing pretty much the norm -- albeit a far cry from normal in my opinion! Everywhere I turned I saw shirts, shorts, hats and faces bespeckled with lions, pawprints and the Penn State logo. In my new Penn State tee-shirt I felt almost under-dressed for the occasion.

We finally arrived at what I think was a van -- it was a little hard to tell. This poor vehicle was choking under Penn State stickers, banners, pompons and stuffed lions. I thought that surely some kind of moving violation was committed by driving this spirited eyesore.

My thoughts were interrupted by the hostess who proudly led me down to her lavish spread. "A feast fit for a Nittany Lion!" she said. "How true," I thought as I viewed the buffet before me.

The Nittany Lion motif had not stopped with the clothes and van, but was well represented with the food. And I don't mean decorations around the food . . . I mean the food! The hamburgers were shaped like lions' heads, the hotdogs had "PSU #1" etched into their sides, and there was enough blue food to make Julia Child weep.

The cookies were blue, the fruit salad had a strange blue hue and the potato salad -- oh, excuse me, the Paterno salad -- was made with blue mayonnaise. Now that one really took the cake (which, incidentally, was frosted with blue icing!) Blueberries aside, there is just nothing natural about blue food.

I gladly turned away from this display to meet the rest of the alumni. I still remember the first thought that jumped into my mind, "These people are nuts!" Here I was watching adults with jobs and responsibilities drinking too much beer, telling bad jokes and basically having a great time! These people -- supposedly role models to young, struggling collegians -- were acting like us (GASP!), the students.

As I made this revelation, the group broke into the Penn State Alma Matter. What a relief! At least Penn State students don't know the "God-damn words," or don't admit it if they do. When I revealed this fact to the group, someone yelled, "Well, you gotta learn 'em!" Who me? No way. That's probably what was brainwashing these lunatics! If I'd learn the words I'd be on my way to becoming one of them.

What other explanation was there for this neurotic behavior? Here was Mr. Bailey, usually a respectable businessman, wearing those ridiculous lion shorts and dancing around a table full of food that looked like a bad chemistry experiment, all the while singing the Penn State fight song to a stuffed lion. His son, also a freshman, was looking very blue indeed as he tried to pretend that this man was not at all a relation.

Eventually, the son and I escaped and headed into the stadium. We were oblivious to the crushing riot we had to endure to get some seats and unphased by all the flying marshmallows. The big question heavy on our minds was, "What are we going to be like when we get out of here?"

Thinking about this question, my mind left the scene from three years before and brought me back to the reality of my chatty acquaintance.

"So you're a senior, huh? Ready to go out into the real world?"

"Well, no. I guess you're never really ready."

"That's so true. So enjoy it! Good luck, kid."

"Hey, thanks." We parted ways -- he off to life in the real world, but always with the chance for that occasional escape; me back to the safety of Happy Valley.

A little tune popped into my head, "For the glory of Old State. For her founders strong and great. La da da da da da..." I still need to learn the rest of those "God-damn words."