I had it. An all-expense paid trip to Saturday's Notre Dame-Penn State game.

As a football writer, I get a press pass for all the football games (except for Wisconsin. C'mon, everyone deserves a day off). It's a pretty sweet deal for any college student. I get to cover the team and travel across the Midwest.

Usually, The Collegian sends just two writers on the road. Initially for Notre Dame, we decided to send three and one photographer. Problem is, it's tough to shoot a football game with just one photographer. So we gave up my press pass for a photographer's pass.

Without a press pass, I was absolutely determined to get my hands on what many referred to as the toughest ticket of the weekend. I needed to get into Notre Dame Stadium to see the first meeting between the Fighting Irish and Penn State since 1992.

First off, you should know that I'm a complete idiot. When it comes to making dumb decisions, I'm your man. I have no common sense, and I'm the biggest pushover you'll meet.

So, when I got the idea to take a road trip to South Bend, Ind., for Saturday's Penn State-Notre Dame football game, I had the inkling I'd do something completely ridiculous. Unfortunately, I didn't disappoint myself.

But I'll tell you this; I may disappoint my landlord. After I dropped $250 bucks on a scalped ticket (in the upper deck no less), October's rent may be a little late.

But anyway, I should probably start from the beginning. Back to good 'ole days, when my wallet was full. Also known as Friday.

Without a press pass, I wanted to do a different story. I wanted to a first-person account of trying to get into the game. So, at 8 a.m. Friday, I packed my car, picked up Collegian football editor Justin Kunkel and took off for South Bend.

*****

Saturday morning, I knew I had limited time to find a ticket, but I also wanted to explore the famed campus, too.

I parked my car in a lot about a mile from the stadium where both Notre Dame and Penn State fans were tailgating, many of them in the same party.

I arrived to the stadium three hours before kickoff, plenty of time to talk to some Penn State fans and find a ticket.

As I got off the shuttle bus from the parking lot, a man who referred to himself simply as the Penn State Scalper said tickets were going for no lower than $400. In fact, he had just sold a group of four together for $500 each.

Looking to spend a max of $200, the news was discouraging. But I don't give up on stupid ideas easily.

After spending a few minutes on the campus, I had almost forgotten about my ticket situation. It was absolutely beautiful. One friend described it to me as the "Roman Catholic Disneyland." I didn't see any roller coasters, so I don't know what he was talking about, but I did see Touchdown Jesus. It was there that a group of Penn State fans were drinking right in front of the mosaic savior.

They felt no guilt.

"I don't feel bad about it at all," said Phil Strybuc, a 2002 PSU alum. "Jesus wants to have a good time ... Jesus had a good time from (age) 12 to 30. We don't know what happened in those years. Jesus was having a good time."

Phil and his brother Tom, a Duquesne grad, were lucky enough to find tickets the night before for $350 each. They had found tickets online for $260, but the seller was running a scam. Luckily, they were able to get their money back.

Nicole Tilley, a 2004 PSU alum, was in the same group and paid $300 to fly into Chicago from California Friday to get catch a glimpse of the campus. As of Saturday, she hadn't found a ticket, but she was enjoying the trip.

"The campus is gorgeous," Nicole said. "No one holds a candle to Penn State's bar scene, though."

*****

In parts of Indiana, scalping is legal, but the Notre Dame campus is not one of them. A group of blue and gold-clad Irish fans pointed me in the direction of Angela Boulevard, about a block of campus.

Sure enough, on the corner of Notre Dame Avenue and Angela Boulevard, the scalpers cries of "Tickets! Tickets! Who needs tickets?" rang out.

Prices were as low as $300, others as high as $500.

"There's just no tickets," one scalper said to explain the high prices, claiming he had already lost money on the day.

Seated on a lawn in the corner, Westley Heydeck (junior-biology) and his brother Andrew, a 2001 Penn State graduate, were waiting patiently for prices to drop.

They had driven to South Bend the night before purely on whim, slept in their car and brushed their teeth in a bathroom in the Notre Dame Bookstore.

Saturday morning, the made a sign that read "We need tickets," but got no offers.

Now with kickoff only a little over two hours away, the brothers still had hope.

"We're up here now," Westley said. "We're going to have to get into the game. There's no way we aren't going to the game.

They had entertained offers of $400 in the morning, but thought for sure prices would fall as kickoff approached.

Instead, prices stayed the same or rose.

The brothers wanted to spend, at most, $250. One scalper offered two tickets in the lower level for $300 each. "A lot of people kill for tickets down there," the scalper said."

Not the Heydecks.

I wasn't nearly as patient. Instead of waiting until closer to kickoff, I had found a man selling a single ticket for $300. I haggled him down to $250 using the age-old broke college student ploy. Fearing this would be my best chance, I bought the ticket. Gate A. Section 103. Row 11. Seat 15. Face value: $59.

As satisfying as it was to know I'd be in the stadium for the game, I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I had just given up almost an entire month's worth of rent money.

Westley and Andrew had decided to wait it out. In the meantime, they walked back to their car so they could grab a quick drink.

"We just have to have the patience because this seems where it's going to happen," Andrew said.

At the car, he grabbed a Molson Triple-X.

Meanwhile, his brother had guzzled some water, while picking up two Woodchuck Draft Ciders. One in hand, the other in his pocket, he looked at Westley and said, "I think we should go and try to get some tickets."

On the way back, we passed a sign reading "Bathroom: $5."

"These people crack me up," Westley said. "I guess if you're paying $300 for tickets, you might as pay five dollars for the bathroom."

*****

Irish fans are funny. They're bleed blue and gold, but they're also incredibly polite. To the point it's almost creepy.

One Irish fan was yelling, "We hate Penn State," while other Notre Dame fans stared on in disgust.

All weekend, I expected both teams' fans to jaw at each other. The worst I heard from a Penn State fan was, "You can't have girls in your dorms."

I even wore a Penn State Center for Sports Journalism hat into Friday's pep rally. Nobody said a word to me. Penn Staters even sat in the crowd. No drinks were dumped on them. No obscenities yelled.

In fact, it felt like a sin to even curse in the stadium. When Justin cursed in the stadium, I asked if maybe he shouldn't do that anymore. He continued. He just doesn't give a -- Oops. Not in Notre Dame anymore.

Irish fans are so much different than Penn State fans. For pep rallies, they each wear a different color shirt depending on which dorm they are in. It's comparable to a summer camp, except -- you know -- these people are 20, not 12.

One Notre Dame student said the dorms were like fraternities "but without the excessive drinking," which means they weren't fraternities at all. As my friend put it, "it was like college without the fun."

Overall, Notre Dame fans were great and got along well with Penn Staters (I hope they don't expect the same next year when they come to State College). Though, don't think I was completely in the clear.

While I was at the game, the girl I was sitting next asked why I didn't cheer when Notre Dame's players ran onto the field. I said I wasn't from Notre Dame.

"You're a loser," she said as she swayed back and forth because of the excessive alcohol in her system. "At least you know you're a loser, though."

Midway through the second quarter, I looked over at her. She was vomiting on herself. Using the Irish equivalent of the Terrible Towel, she wiped the vomit off her face. Who's the loser now?

*****

Back on the corner, the time was approaching 2:30. Westley and Andrew still had not found tickets.

"They're just not going to eat it," Andrew said of the scalpers. "They're going to want something.

At 2:40, Westley showed signs for frustration when he couldn't get scalpers to drop their prices.

"I wish I was bigger and more intimidating," he said.

He also turned his frustration on the athletic department for giving more of the 5,000 allotted tickets to alumni instead of students.

"If it wasn't for the students, there wouldn't be alumni," he said. "They've had their time."

Other Penn State fans were frustrated, too.

"Let 'em eat it," one said before gathering his group and walking away.

Here and there, tickets sold to those desperate to get inside the stadium.

One scalper named Lars made the promise if he couldn't sell his last two tickets, they'd go to Westley and Andrew for $250 each. Despite the number of tickets available falling quickly, the two decided to wait longer.

As they waited, Lars sold his last two tickets. Westley and Andrew all but gave up, unable to get their hands on the toughest ticket.

At that point, Westley and Andrew suggested I head up to the stadium for kickoff.

I told them to e-mail me if they got in.

At 6:46 yesterday, an e-mail popped up in my inbox.

"Lots of PSU students ended up going to the bars instead because tickets were too scarce and too expensive," Westley wrote. "As my brother and I were about to give up though, a lady (probably in her late 20's) came up to us and asked us if we needed tickets.

She said that she would sell us two tickets for $300 (so $150 each), and we couldn't pass that up. All in all, it was a sad game but a great experience."

Still, though, not worth $250.