Clean the common rooms, hide the beer, and remove the puke stains from the FUSCO-issued furniture, because parents are invading campus this weekend. Or in the case of my parents, make sure the beer is out front and center. They always like a good drink after the long trip from Orlando, Fla.

Thankfully, the nice Yale administrators have carefully allotted time for your family to attend museum tours, music concerts, cocktail parties, and the big Parents’ Weekend football game!

Wait, my schedule says there is no Parents’ Weekend football game Saturday. After calling the Office of Public Affairs four times, my Dad sadly came to the same conclusion. There is no big Parents’ Weekend football game this year.

Okay, Mr. Big-Shot Yale, how am I supposed to entertain my father this weekend?

For the Hanson family, Parents’ Weekend is synonymous with football. My sister went to Florida State, and my entire family trekked five hours to go to every one of those Parents’ Weekend games.

Last year, my parents and I went to see the Bulldogs compete against Fordham. In our FSU state of mind, we arrived early anticipating crowds; but sadly, it seems that more parents were actually visiting their kids than watching football.

Where were the buffalo wings? The crowds? The Florida State Golden Girls? My dad basically dominated the TD keg. Well, someone had to drink the beer, so it might as well have been my dad.

At the TD cocktail party that night, we took a quick survey, noting only one other family had gone to the “big game.” When we asked one mother if she had gone to the game, she responded, “Where are you from?” My dad replied, “Orlando.” Then she eloquently added, “I didn’t know Yale accepted students from Florida.”

Right then, I knew what I was dealing with. More Yale parents care about shopping at Urban Outfitters and J.Crew than watching Blue football when they visit. And my Dad just doesn’t fit in with those types of people. He thinks a cappella is an Italian entree of lamb and red sauce.

We want football, not abstract post-modern plays depicting the struggles of coffee plantation workers in third-world countries. We want hard-hitting action, not classical music from 19th-century Russia. At this point, my Dad has suggested going to Dartmouth for Parents’ Weekend so we can watch Yale play football.