Our journey began before the sun rose on Saturday morning. Uber was our means of transportation en route to the South Bend Airport, where we took off just after 6 a.m. The connecting flight from Charlotte required a brisk walk across the terminal upon landing, and got us to the Miami Airport before the clock struck noon. However, we would not settle into our hotel, the Comfort Suites Kendall, until 3:30 p.m.
As both of us were 20 years old, our fears about renting a car were confirmed. A stern Enterprise manager repeatedly shunned our requests, even despite the support from our wonderful travel coordinator, Debra. Resigning ourselves to a weekend of Uber trips, we arranged one to the nearest Chipotle for lunch. Conveniently, a neighboring Starbucks offered us a source of much-needed caffeine after the early wake-up and failed attempts at sleeping on the plane. Before we could order the next Uber, however, we received some good news – a rental car was available. After returning to the terminal, we filled out the necessary paperwork and left in a mid-sized Nissan Sentra.
The freedom of driving our own car was liberating. It allowed us to make an 18-minute trip to CAVA after recharging in the hotel. Both of us had only eaten at the popular new Mediterranean chain once back home, and it made for an exciting and delicious dinner option. A pit stop at Publix for travel-sized toothpaste was the final stop of the night before we called it a day. Tired from a long day of travel with an even busier gameday awaiting, we passed on the vibrant Miami club scene for an early bedtime.
We began Sunday with our second Starbucks stop of the weekend, which required only a 500-foot walk from the hotel parking lot. Fueled by coffee and breakfast sandwiches, we tried to finish some school work before heading to Hard Rock, later realizing that it was a futile attempt. Our minds were preoccupied by the highly anticipated game that awaited that evening.
The half-hour drive to the stadium stalled behind a massive line extending out of the parking lot. Several traffic workers martialed the line a few cars at a time, providing what little direction they could to the restless drivers. Our digital parking pass read “pink lot,” but without much knowledge of the stadium’s layout, we found ourselves en route to the “blue lot” with little hope of re-routing. The wrong turn turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. After compromising with a reluctant stadium official, we found a spot in the media lot. It was only a few strides away from the southwest gate, where credentials would be handed out at 4:30 p.m.
With time to kill, however, we turned in the opposite direction on a walk towards the yellow lot, otherwise known as the hub for a vast majority of Miami fan tailgates. We passed through a sea of green and orange with the occasional blue and gold from groups of traveling Irish faithful. Those who did not represent their school donned “Catholics vs Convicts” shirts, commemorating the renewal of one of college football’s greatest rivalries.
Some social media connections got us an invite to the Miami baseball team’s tailgate. They were not very welcoming to their guests, at least at first. Likely due to our unrecognized faces and prominently displayed Irish gear, we were viewed as the enemy and yelled at to leave. After some further clarification, our return trip was more cordial. Many of the same players vehemently defending their team quietly admitted to their closeted Notre Dame fandom and doubts about their team’s chances. After an hour of conversation about everything from thoughts on the game to life as a D1 baseball player, we returned to our parked car, and did so at the perfect time. Within seconds of getting inside, a raging storm broke out in a violent downpour.
With our credentials now available, and the prospects of the storm settling looking poor, we made a beeline for the gate. Finding refuge just outside the ticketing window where media passes were being handed out, we spoke to a group of journalists and photographers who waited in line beside us, equally soaked from head to toe. Behind us was a pair of Miami student writers discussing the keys to a Hurricane victory. In front of us, a retired lawyer of 50 years now turned freelance photographer named Pat Ford handed us a business card with his contact information and a link to his online portfolio. Between rueing the terrible weather, he shared his life story, which began with taking pictures as an undergraduate at, coincidentally, the University of Notre Dame. He described a passion for photography that never left him throughout a half-century professional career and led him back to the camera after retirement. A ‘65 graduate, Ford represented an incredible 60-year gap between eras of Irish student media. His continued pursuit of the craft in his later years was inspiring.
Upon receiving our passes, we navigated the stadium concourse to an elevator that brought us to the press box. We went our separate ways from there, using two hours leading up to kickoff to grab dinner and get situated, one in front of a computer thousands of feet above the field, the other within arm's length of the action. Like last season’s week one matchup against Texas A&M, the game was a back-and-forth thriller. Looking to be out of the game down two scores in the middle of the third quarter, the Irish rallied to tie it late in the fourth. A Miami field goal on the following drive, however, would be the difference in the game. Notre Dame would start 2025 0-1.
After all the pictures were taken and game wraps written, we left for the hotel. Taking a detour through the McDonald’s drive-thru, we returned with food a bit before 2 a.m. for our final sleep in the Sunshine State.
The next morning’s flight thankfully left us much more time than on Saturday. The connector in Charlotte required hours of waiting in the airport, which we spent eating lunch and catching up on piles of missed homework. By 7 p.m. on Monday, we were back in South Bend, marking the end of an outstanding trip. While the game did not produce our desired outcome, it will nonetheless remain a weekend to remember.
