A Review of the Night
Ever since the Lyric Theater ('the club') opened in Oxford a few weeks ago, I've been thinking, "I can't wait for all my faculty friends who are traveling this summer to get back in town so they can check out the Lyric." What I hadn't been thinking was how, with them, the multitude of undergrads return. Now I'm worried that something that has been so great in July will start to suck in September. I had a few glimpses of that aggravating potential tonight.
Midway through the night, I waited at the bar and watched FIVE random 'tards get served before me. I was like, "Who do I gotta do to get a refill around here???" Whatever hype you may have heard about the gentility of our co-eds, don't believe it (at least, not about this generation). When I am drinking in public venues, I tend to become the 'queue police', and tonight I had to make multiple arrests for cutting in line. While I can semi-appreciate the ballsiness of it, I do NOT accept line-cutting from the less-than-attractive. Eventually, I actually had to push back another cutter, grab the bartender by the shoulders (I shit you not), and tell him "Unh uhn. I need two Coors Lights, a Shiner, and to close out my tab right now." Even on a $41.00 tab, failure-to-recognize earned a zero-dollar tip.
Also, I'm worried that more of our friends aren't coming out to shake their asses at the Lyric. Tonight, several of us worried that the Lyric could potentially become a new dividing line between HYFA (the Hip Young Faculty Assocation) and SOFA (the Square Old Faculty Association). And be warned, my friends... I'm not sure that even friendship with Sweet Pickles will, in and of itself, be enough to save you from that unfortunate designation! Even if you don't like to dance, just come and watch me dance (and buy me some drinks)!
Random Twilight Zone moment of the night: While standing outside on the street smoking a cigarette with a group of friends, some bigass undergrad in a pastel oxford-cloth shirt (didn't these stop being the cool thing to wear when President Reagan left office?) comes out of nowhere, literally steps into the middle of our conversation, gets up in my face, and goes, "Dude, you and I can just..." I think it must've been some weird case of mistaken identity, and I didn't know what to say. But as he walked away, I was thinking, "Unless the next words out of your mouth are step over into that corner so I can sell you some xtc," then there is nothing you and I can 'just'..."
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