Dear Smiley: I was a member of the Golden Band from Tiger Land in 1968 when LSU played Florida State in the first Peach Bowl (at Grant Field on the Georgia Tech campus).
This was just a one-day trip; no overnight stay. When we arrived in Atlanta, the weather was gorgeous. It was cold and windy, but the sun was out as we marched in the Peach Bowl parade in the morning.
At some point during the game, the skies opened up and driving, freezing rain began to fall, drenching everyone.
Soon it was halftime, time for us to perform. We lined up in the end zone, marking time until it was our turn to step off.
As I marched in place a suction was forming between my feet and the muddy, sloppy field. As I stepped off, the muck sucked my right shoe off!
I performed the entire halftime show with only one shoe on. I could never get back down to the end zone, so I went home with only one shoe.
It is amusing to think of the scenarios the groundskeepers probably formed as to how that shoe got there!
SHERYL BOURDIER SHERLOCK
Guide Dog I
Dear Smiley: About the dog mentioned in your column that accompanied Thibodaux mailman George Papa on his route many years ago:
Between a couple of my (numerous) undergrad years at LSU, I had a summer job at the Thibodaux Post Office.
The dog was not George’s, but was a faithful companion on his appointed rounds, and usually got a treat at their completion.
I met the dog when I substituted once on that walking route. The dog joined me early on and stayed with me, until we got to an intersection where I turned and the dog stopped and looked at me quizzically.
After consulting with the next bundle of mail for delivery, I realized he was right: we had to continue straight ahead! I followed his lead thereafter.
PATRICK M. O'NEIL
Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina
Guide Dog II
Dear Smiley: In the early '50s my family had a pet half beagle named Pal who was the neighborhood defender.
Our next-door neighbor had a dog that liked to chase bicyclists. Our paperboy would stop and call Pal, and he would guide him past the neighbor's dog, then just calmly return home.
Best dressed dachshund
Dear Smiley: Your recent dog stories reminded me of my first dachshund, Beauregard T. Dawg. I bought the puppy when I was stationed in Japan in the Air Force.
The first really cold night we experienced in Japan, I put a long-sleeved corduroy shirt in his sleeping box. The next morning I awoke to find he had squeezed into one of the sleeves, so all you saw of him was a head at the shoulder end of the sleeve, and a wagging tail at the other end. It looked like a straight jacket.
I squeezed him out, and the next night I put the shirt back in his box. The following morning I awoke to find him sitting majestically with the shirt spread all around him. He had chewed a hole in the middle of the back and put his head through it, looking for all the world like King Beauregard the First.
Servers know best
Dear Smiley: My wife and I were in Philadelphia a few years ago, and someone recommended a restaurant out in the suburbs.
At the restaurant, we learned they gave diners a complimentary glass of red wine if they ordered a full meal.
Free wine, what's not to like? I ordered a glass, but the waiter strongly objected.
"The wine is terrible," he warned. "You don't want to drink it."
But I was insistent, and the waiter finally relented. "You'll be sorry," he said ominously. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Sure enough, the wine was awful. It was served at room temperature and tasted like an old-fashioned Grapette soda that had lost its fizz.
I learned a lesson. Never disregard a waiter's advice…