When event marketing agency Trilogy hired me to manage the southwest leg of its beverage client’s college football tour, I danced all over the house. It was only my second tour, and my first as team manager. But how hard could it be? Freebies are like magnets to our young adult target audience. We’d sample at college campuses and game-day stadiums, with some retail gigs and guerilla marketing to round out the fall tour. What could go wrong?
Three months, 13 cities and 10,000 miles later, I knew. Even the best tour manual can’t cover everything. Between the hard-core football fans, the mating mayflies and one drunk brand aficionado, I became a seasoned brand ambassador (sorry, can’t name the brand here), a manager and an accomplished truck driver — no small feat for a girl who drives a Ford Escort named Essie.
Our road team — Amber, J.P., Calvin and I, assembled from the far reaches of Philly (my hometown), Seattle, Chicago and Dallas — gave away 60,000 drinks, 20,000 coupons and over 30,000 prizes. We needed a large dose of elbow grease, creative problem solving and more than a little luck, too. We survived the mating flies that swarmed our windshield, a nasty blowout and a destroyed rim. We sweet-talked samples into the hands of students who were indignant that our uniforms matched the color of their archrival’s. We diplomatically dissuaded an inebriated stranger from helping us sample our brand.
Somehow my cell phone and toothbrush charger, expense card, bathing suit and a full load of laundry mysteriously disappeared along the way. The painful cardboard cuts and chapped hands were new to me. Fortunately, so were the armadillos, the warm southern sun, a brief trip to Mexico and soothing whirlpool soaks at the end of each long day.
The big payoffs? Watching a stadium full of fans waving our brand’s “We’re No. 1” foam fingers on national TV. Also, chatting with battered but resilient survivors of Hurricane Katrina over hotel breakfast buffets. The job turned out to be an enriching personal odyssey for a girl schooled more in hoops than pigskin. Here’s a peek at my tour diary.
TULSA, OK
After two days of training at Trilogy headquarters in Dallas, our team packed the 22-foot trailer and pickup with inflatables, generators, tents, giveaways and too much luggage. MapQuest in hand, we hit the highway and within an hour plowed into our first Texas rainstorm. Working the massive tailgating party at the University of Tulsa’s season opener, we discovered that people love to pose for the company’s photos. “Am I going to be in a commercial?” one woman asks. “O.K., now I’m turning the logo toward the camera!” I wish she knew that her photo is still up on Trilogy’s internal Web site.
The Tulsa team — ironically nicknamed the Golden Hurricane — was crushed that day, less than a week after Hurricane Katrina had demolished the Gulf Coast. When we hit the road for Stillwater that night, the super-funky air in the pickup revealed how intensely physical our day had been.
STILLWATER, OK
We got our first surprise visit from Trilogy: my boss, Marisa Rahl, tracked our team to the Oklahoma State Fun Fest. We were 30 minutes behind schedule and red-faced. That day, I began making hotel wake-up calls mandatory.
We set up our tents and our Gridiron Challenge — inflatables with a football toss and running game — and the day proceeded smoothly. I noticed, however, that female students, key to our target audience, needed extra encouragement to join in.
That night we took leave of the Cowboys and headed to Arkansas. Googlemaps was in; Mapquest, which had stranded us late at night on a dark road, was out.
FAYETTEVILLE, AR
Next up: Bentonville, home to several universities and Wal-Mart. Hurricane Katrina evacuees, being bused with vouchers to Wal-Mart, gratefully accepted our cold beverage samples.
The crank on our trailer hitch broke as we picked up product at the local bottling plant. Plant workers and a forklift saved the day.
We hawked our wares on a busy street corner as pig-calling Razorback fans made their way to the stadium. I was glad our colors matched theirs; no telling what might happen in a crowd whose mascot is a wild hog. Suddenly, a cop pointed one of our foam fingers at us and yelled into his bullhorn, “Out of the street now! Keep handing those things out and I will ticket you. I’m the law.” We quit walking into the street to give samples to folks in passing cars.
COMMERCE, TX
Having survived swarms of “luvbugs” that spattered our windshield in Nacogdoches, we wrapped up a successful visit to the Stephen F. Austin State University campus and high-tailed it out of town one step ahead of Hurricane Rita. With 12 events, heavy on retail, Commerce was the busiest week of our tour. Trilogy staff also popped in, commenting on a job well done and the poor condition of some of our equipment.
Our motel was filled to capacity with those fleeing Beaumont, Port Arthur and Lake Charles in anticipation of Hurricane Rita. On the storm’s eve, this new wave of evacuees stayed up late, barbecuing and pondering the condition of their homes. The next morning, worried school officials moved up kickoff time. With the tailgate event now inside, we got permission to work the stands, and interacted with fans as the wind and rain whipped the stadium.
ABILENE, TX
We were strictly guerilla for most of the week, going back and forth between the three main universities here. At Abilene Christian University, students hung out with us in the record 102-degree heat.
“So why, exactly, are you guys doing this?” asked a student reporter. “What purpose does it serve to give the product away for free?”
Two days later a professor sped up to us in his wheelchair. “Hey! I saw you guys in the newspaper!” he shouted. We rushed to find the school’s paper, The Optimist, and there on p. 6 was a photo of us. Our friendly marketing had paid off with free publicity.
SAN ANGELO, TX
The grill of our truck was plastered with the wings of migrating Monarch butterflies. Later, the rain would wash them off. It was dreary and cold. “It would be much better if you all were giving out hot chocolate,” people told us.
A local bottler invited us to the Rio Concho Air Show on Saturday. We showed up early and snagged a prime spot for sampling. Then it was off to the Angelo State game, where we pushed into the stands, distributing hundreds of branded foam fingers. We met both team mascots — one human, the other a ram named Dominic.
LUBBOCK, TX
Famous as the birthplace of musician Buddy Holly, infamous as a top spot in the U.S. for food poisoning. I can attest to that.
We didn’t have permission to be on Texas Tech University’s campus, but we tried anyway. Inundated by thirsty students and faculty, we couldn’t keep up. One official threatened us, but another directed us to student activities honcho Mike Gunn.
“I was having a good day until you guys walked into my office,” he said. “Sit down.” Calvin and I slumped into our seats. “It usually takes months for the Activities Board to decide these things,” Gunn told us. “But you say it’s free. So I’m going to let you set up here the rest of the week and at Raider Gate, our official game day tailgate.” Thanks to Mike, our visit with the Red Raiders was easy and exhilarating.
COLLEGE STATION, TX
After a 15-hour ride from sunny El Paso (including a border check and a wrong turn), we set up in College Station. I spotted my first armadillo close up as it scratched over the cement.
On game day, we loaded up on ice at a local mini mart. The manager started cursing. “What are you doing blocking my gas pumps? You probably spent $10 and have been here for 30 minutes!” Our rig wasn’t blocking anything, but we thought it best to leave after he threatened to call the police. As we drove off, we let him know that we bought 300 pounds of ice and suggested he take a class in consumer relations.
BATON ROUGE, LA
The day started sadly, as New Orleans evacuees were evicted from our hotel, their belongings in trash bags.
We couldn’t set up our game at Louisiana State University, so we used trivia challenges to give away premiums.
“I can’t believe you all are giving away all this stuff for free,” one student said. “I thought nothing was free until I came to college. There’s always something out here for us.”
Driving on I-10 west towards Austin, we shut the windows to keep out the Bayou humidity as we passed mangled billboards, overturned barns, sheared roofs and trailer homes snapped in two. At a diesel stop the clerk explained, “Yes ma’am, we got hit pretty hard. There’s still a curfew here.” Our travel fatigue and tension suddenly seemed terribly trivial.
AUSTIN, TX
Our last week, with the No. 1 college football team in the country, the University of Texas Long Horns. At “The Drag,” a popular shopping street across from campus, we averaged a whopping 2,300 samples each day, and attracted some interesting “fans.” One guy cheered our brand endlessly. At first it was nice, but eventually he began sampling. When wary students started to walk past or say “No thank you,” I reluctantly took him aside and said, “Sir, we love all the help you are giving us, but it’s against company policy for any non-staff to give away product. I’m really sorry.” He left peacefully but another would-be helper was taken away in a paddy wagon for public intoxication.
Game day at UT was also a challenge. “We should rip those jerseys off of you!” fans yelled at us. “We wear orange, not maroon!” Diplomacy won over all but the most rancorous fans.
By the end of the day we were tired, exhilarated — and a little nostalgic. Tomorrow, we’d be home….
I’m back in Philly now, rested up and thinking seriously about writing a tour manager’s guide for dummies. Possible topics: leaving laundry unattended, nipping staff problems in the bud and pacifying hostile consumers.
For the first time, I paid more than casual attention when the college football bowl invitations were announced. I was amazed to see that nearly half of the large schools we had visited had been selected.
It was an unforgettable experience touring through college football country. I’m actually contemplating the next tour — someplace warm, I hope, but not during hurricane season.
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