General admission for all student sections. Now, there was a time when I thought that meant first-come, first served – that if I showed up before you did, I won.

Well, not so after last Saturday night’s game in Sanford Stadium. Not after I tried to get a seat early in the almost empty 300 section and was asked to move by what looked like a 20-year-old kid wearing Mark Richt’s hat. Hey, I protested, but the effort the guy made to look like he felt bad for me as he kicked me out really won me over. So I moved two rows back and was OK.

Too bad everyone wasn’t treated as well. I saw one group of girls who were told to get the hell out because they didn’t have the special wristband. Yet, as I kept watching, it seemed other girls who weren’t necessarily endowed with a wristband got to stay if they were endowed by their creator with a few other things. And obviously I’m not talking about unalienable rights, here.

And speaking of rights, who has a right to reserve seats in Sanford Stadium? And why were the details of this policy not available to the public before game day?

Sports information director Claude Felton said the block seating policy wasn’t publicized on any University Web site but might be necessary to do so in the future.

“We’ll see how it goes game to game,” Felton said of the seating process, “evaluate it as a season, and then make recommendations at the end. But I think it’s gone pretty well so far.”

Felton said he would be more likely to examine input from the Student Government Association, who worked with the Athletic Association to create the policy.

But former SGA President Connor McCarthy was quick to point out, as Felton did, that this policy was nothing new.

“Any organization can apply for the wristbands,” McCarthy told me. “And it’s not enforced after kickoff – that would be totally self-serving.”

Fair enough. So I guess we could try to fight the power and gain access to these seats, or at least get the policy to be clearly stated. But I found myself asking, “Why?”

Why fight to sit next to the guy that’s screaming, “God I want to fight someone soo bad,” one second, then falling asleep on your shoulder the next?

Is it worth writing an angry letter to try to sit up there with such great company? I guess that depends on several things. Like how much you love the new tradition forming where someone throws their coke on you after a good play – and then again after a bad play.

Or the marvelous eloquence of the fans after a Gamecock first down: “I don’t give a sh*#! You’re still called the f&*$#(& cocks!”

Or again when A.J. misses a poorly thrown pass: “F&%# you A.J. Green.” (With a double middle finger to match.)

“Yeah!” I yelled back in sarcastic agreement, “Who needs A.J. Green on our team anyway, right?”

So you could fight the power all you want, and you’ve probably got a point. Because if you don’t make it early enough to get to the bottom section, you should probably be able to get a good seat in the 300 section without being denied one by a beer bellied usher who lets three pretty girls with bare wrists in after you.

And if you do eventually find a spot, you shouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of getting kicked out of an almost-empty section by a guy in a goofy hat who may later be yelling, “Where’s a pledge? I need a Sprite!” to no one in particular. (While the girl in front of him suddenly realizes how hard it will be to get the sticky Sprite out of her hair.)

But as I was sitting between the guy with the “Eat Sh*# Auburn” hat and the dude stirring the liquor into his drink with a “Tide To Go” pen, I was wondering if I really cared that much about making a point.

Who cares if the “General Admission” policy turned into something else out of thin air? Who cares if someone tells the paper the middle 300 sections are the seats with the worst view in the student section, when in reality the worst seats are the ones they sent the non-wristbanders to?

I’ll tell you – I don’t anymore. Because from where I was standing Saturday night, and based on the people I was surrounded by, those are indeed the worst seats in the stadium. And next week, I’ll be standing somewhere else.

I may join Will Brown, a friend of mine who’s a member of an IFC fraternity – one that gets to the game two hours early and sits down behind the end zone without using pledges to save their seats.

Brown was pretty blunt when I asked him why he personally prefers sitting as far from the 300 section as possible.

“Its a bunch of obnoxious guys who don’t care about watching the game,” the junior from Roswell said. “They’re more concerned with their dip, whiskey and working their women than anything going on down on the field.”

Amen. I couldn’t have said it better. So hey, before you get up in arms to fight to sit up there, you might just want to leave the animal house to the animals.

- Marc McAfee is online editor for The Red & Black