36 Hours in Miami: PSUNYC Takes On the Orange Bowl

If you want to test your immune system, forget CrossFit, ice baths, or raw vegetable diets. Just book a 5:20 AM flight from JFK to Miami in the middle of flu season and see how long you last. That’s how my Orange Bowl adventure began: me, in a middle seat, packed like a sardine, dodging a symphony of sneezes and coughs. The small child seated next to me was hacking up what sounded like a lung and half a kidney as "Ms. Rachel" BLARED from her iPad. I just needed to get to Miami and survive long enough to watch Penn State stomp Notre Dame back into obscurity.

Spoiler Alert: That last part did not happen.

Welcome to Miami

I touched down at 8 AM and nearly wept tears of joy. It was a brisk 60 degrees, which made Miami locals searching for the only winter coats In their wardrobe, but after leaving New York’s “Real Feel” of HELL FROZEN OVER, it felt like Cancún in July.

I checked into my hotel, stared at the bed longingly for exactly ten seconds, and then got back outside. First stop? A quick pilgrimage to an infamous "Scarface" filming location, because nothing says “I’m here for a football game” quite like paying respects to Tony Montana’s drug empire. Honestly, the real spectacle was the strip itself. Miami Beach was already crawling with Penn State alums. They were everywhere. Notre Dame fans? Also easy to spot. They looked like they’d never seen sunlight before. The contrast was jarring.

Hard Rock Hotel: Penn Staters and Notre Dame Fans Engage in Cold War Diplomacy

At some point in the early afternoon, I linked up with Marisa Simone, PSUNYC Secretary and human energy drink, who was ready to attack the day like it was fourth-and-goal with the game on the line. If there’s one person you want on your squad for a Penn State weekend in Miami, it’s Marisa. She’s equal parts life of the party and event coordinator, effortlessly navigating the chaos while making sure everyone is having a good time.

We rolled up to DAER Nightclub at the Hard Rock Hotel, where Penn State Barstool was throwing a pre-game that was already operating at varying levels of responsibility.

Things I immediately noticed:

1. Penn Staters had fully taken over.

2. Notre Dame fans were crammed in a corner like they were at middle school dance.

3. A DJ was blasting enough EDM to register on the Richter Scale (shout out Department of Geosciences).

4. The PSU Barstool folks had control of the mist machine and were not shy about hydrating everyone on the dance floor

   
   

Before we could get too deep into the madness, we had other fun in store. Next stop: the Alumni Association Tailgate.

PSU Tailgating 101

You know you’re at a Penn State tailgate when 1,000+ alumni hear “open bar” and take it more as a challenge than a courtesy. That’s what I walked into at the Penn State Alumni Association Tailgate, where Jon Bradley, PSUNYC Treasurer with a Master's Degree In Good Vibes, commandeered a table with the greatest assortment of tailgate food imaginable. Okay, maybe I was just starving. Sara Butcher, PSUNYC Board Member and hilarious in ways that should probably be criminal, added to an already perfect pregame environment.

Everywhere I turned, someone was hugging an old classmate, taking a celebratory drink, or hyping up a complete stranger with “WE ARE!” chants. I even had the chance to have a quick pre-game chat with PSUNYC Advisory Board Member Susan Robinson, who was equally as excited to transition from the BRUTAL Manhattan gusts to the warm South Florida breeze.

Just when I thought the mid-afternoon food coma was going to put me into an early slumber, Alum and fellow NYC resident Alissa Buck stopped by with her trademark golden-retriever-like energy. Now it was official. We were LOCKED IN. Even Chapter President Will Sullivan stopped by moments before kickoff to gather the E-Board for the Official Pre-Game Photo. This is just what I needed. Penn State by a million. Let’s do this.

Hope, Despair, Existential Crises

When I got to my seat, it took me all of ten seconds to realize I had drawn the worst possible luck. Because standing right next to me? The only Notre Dame fan in the entire section. He was, of course, the worst Notre Dame fan alive.

This man was not an ND alum, but you already knew that. He was sporting a brand-new Norte Dame flat-brimmed hat with the stickers still on it - because nothing says "die hard fan" quite like keeping your return options open just in case things went south. Okay...I'm being a hater, but it was hard finding common ground with the guy after I watched him fumble his soufflé cup of nacho cheese onto the rows in front of us. It felt like slow-motion as the orange goo spewed onto the White-Out shirts below. BUT I DIGRESS - Halftime. Penn State 10, Notre Dame 3. For a brief, beautiful moment I thought maybe, just maybe, a blowout victory could drown this guy out. And then…The Great Undoing.

Notre Dame clawed back, one gut-punch drive at a time, taking a 17-10 lead. Penn State showed incredible heart with 14-unanswered points of their own. It simply wasn't enough. After a late PSU interception, our collective dreams were shattered into a fine, soul-crushing powder. Last-second field goal. Final score: Notre Dame 27, Penn State 24. As the clock hit zeroes, you could hear a pin drop. That was until, of course, the deeply inebriated ND fan realized his team had won.

Post-Game Therapy

Getting an Uber after the game was a hellscape. Watching thousands of people fight over surge-priced Ubers was almost more brutal than anything that happened on the field. After painfully enduring the jubilant expressions of 10,000-or-so Notre Dame fans for what seemed like ages, my car arrived. The next forty-five minutes was yet another test of my patience, as I opted for the former of: (1) the entire life story of my driver or (2) talk about the game.

By the time I made it back to the strip, I met up with some alums for an emergency debrief of sadness. Someone suggested karaoke. At first, I resisted. I was still gutted. I did not want to listen to the worst possible cover of "Sweet Caroline" during the lowest point of the trip. Nonetheless, I relented. To my surprise, it ended up being exactly what we all needed . At some point during “Don’t Stop Believin’,” the mood shifted, and people were screaming into the microphones - despite sounding more hoarse than Deion Sanders after shooting an Alfac commercial. A few Notre Dame fans were wise enough to just let us have this moment.

The Morning After

The next morning, the loss had officially set in. I did the only rational thing left to do: went straight to the beach. Even just one hour on the sand was the exactly spiritual detox I needed.

With just a few hours left in the trip, I stopped by The Clevelander for outdoor margaritas with fellow Penn Staters.

That’s when it hit me. Win or lose, this trip was perfect.

A few days of warm weather while surrounded by friends, creating unforgettable moments - in the middle of January?! I’ll take that. Every. Single. Time. I might not make it to all of Penn State's bowl games, but I will never miss another Orange Bowl for as long as I live.