Drunken Exodus

I've lived here for four years and so far I have been able to miss the mass undergraduate drunken exodus downtown. Until last night. It was enthralling. Seriously.

I normally go to a local bar on Friday nights, but I leave around 11pm, 1) because I'm old, and 2) because I want to avoid the drunk students. I see them arrive (some arrive on the "Drunk bus"; it shuttle students from campus to downtown.)

But, tonight there was a local band playing, and I have wanted to see them for some time--tonight was the time.

In addition to the band (who were great), there was the aftermath of a fight, lots of police, possibly some blood, an ambulance, and a pissed off girlfriend yelling, "And guess who will have to bail him out of jail?" into her phone.

And at exactly 1:00 AM the students swarmed out of three bars--all into the street. We stood in the "grown up" bar, watching. There were more fights, puking, and puking and fighting. We saw several games of How Many People Can We Stuff Into This Ginormous SUV. We're guessing twenty. We heard screams of "The Drunk Bus is here, run!" followed by the sound of four-inch heels dragging along the concrete as drunk girls stumbled to the bus. I stood outside, watching and waiting for the crowd to clear because I had to wade through it to get to my car. I also wanted to give the drunkest drivers a chance to get off the road before I headed out.

Seriously. Wow. Part of me wanted to take pictures because it was so fascinating. And the other part of me felt bad for wanting to take pictures.

I also saw There Will Be Blood tonight. Excellent.

Scene/Seen at a Local Bar

Group of loud, drunk Southern Women surrounding a large Southern Man wearing a pink Ralph Lauren button up over a white tshirt and wearing a baseball cap backwards. I wondered if he was a large gay man since he was surrounded my a gaggle of loud, drunk women, but I don't think so. This is the same man I encountered at the bar while I was getting a beer. He was standing behind me, stroked my hair and said, "You have such pretty hair" (another thing that made me think he might be gay). I said "thank you," quickly walked away, and demonstrated to my friends how this odd man was touching my hair.

This group got louder and drunker as the night went on, and I was kind of obsessed with them. I think the already-thick accents got thicker.

One woman had her shirt tucked into her pink underwear--the underwear that was pulled up higher than her pants. I almost took a picture of it.

Another one was putting on mascara without looking in the mirror (this observation was reported by ME).

Another one kept telling the large man she was "so into" him.

The man kept holding and kissing the hands of the woman putting on the mascara.

Another woman did not want to sit on the swing (it's a table under an awning with four swings--we were all on the back patio of a bar), so she moved a chair to where the swing was. The mascara woman tried to wrap the swing around the post holding up the awning. It took two times to get it to work. It involved a lot of drama.

The man proclaimed that he was a "sissy" because he couldn't do an entire shot. Then he talked about "how good" the shots were: a mix of vodka, apple juice, amaretto, and grenadine.

Maybe he was gay.

Who takes his own harmonica to karaoke?

Some dude, that's who. Some dude who kept yelling, "Can I hear a Rebel yell?!" I thought he was going to sing Billy Idol. He wasn't and didn't.

I've never been a fan of karaoke mainly because I can't carry a tune and when I try to sing the sound that comes out of my mouth isn't anything anyone would want to hear. But I will sing backup. A large group of us took over the karaoke room at a local bar but sometimes a local would wander in, like the guy with the harmonica (seriously, who takes his own harmonica to karaoke?). Then there was a job candidate (any candidate who will go out at night and sing karaoke with a potential employer should be hired immediately), and some dude in a kilt (any guy who is willing to wear a kilt in this town has my total respect).

The night was pretty awesome, really. Lots of singing, birthday cake, clapping, foot stomping, and laughing... mostly at ourselves.

But the weirdest part? Running into a student... More like being accosted by a student, actually. In the three years I have been here I have been able to avoid seeing students at the local bars. Most of the students I work with aren't old enough to get into a bar, and the ones that are seem to frequent different bars than me. Tonight I was walking through the crowd when this very blond girl grabbed my arm and squealed, "Oh my GOD!" I looked at her with wide eyes pretty much knowing what was next. "You're that librarian!" I tried to play dumb and pretend not to know what she was talking about, but I knew she had to've been in one of the advanced advertising classes I spoke to earlier this week. Those kids are old enough to get into the bars. "Oh my god, you came to talk to us about that stuff for class! Oh my god! Let me give you a hug! Oh my god! You're awesome! Oh my god!" I am trying to get away without making a scene all the while the guy she is with is laughing hysterically. "I want to have my picture taken with you! Oh my god!" The guy was like, "Ashley,* she doesn't want to have her picture taken with you." "Oh my god, I have to have my picture taken with you!" I am still trying to get away.... "Ashley, she doesn't want her picture taken," the guy keeps saying. Ashley continues to squeal, "Oh my god! Meghan,* take a picture! Take a picture!" She's still got ahold of my arm, and I am trying to sneak away before my picture is taken with a student in a bar. I see the flash out of the corner of my eye and hear the guy friend laughing even harder. I was not drunk. I was not doing anything I shouldn't've been doing, but oh dear lord, I do not need my picture taken with some drunk-ass student. Next thing I know, a picture of me hiding from a student will be on the damn Facebook. Thing is, I have to work with these students on a one-on-one basis throughout the semester. Precious.

As Harmonica Dude said, "What happens at the Oasis stays at the Oasis." Let's hope so.

Next week for happy hour? Roller skating. Faculty on Skates. That's a disaster waiting to happen. Especially since I can't turn corners on roller skates.




*I don't know if those were their names but since most girls here are named either Ashley or Meghan, it is a safe bet.

Margaritas in a bottle

Why didn't someone tell me I could get margaritas in a bottle? Pre-made margaritas? Why? Probably because they know I have a weakness for margaritas on the rocks. I know, it's a girly drink. It doesn't say, "I'm a sophisticated hipster." (Although, "sophisticated" and "hipster" really don't work togther; and I'm not a hispter, dammit.) Why didn't anyone tell me? Well, because I have a weakness for margaritas. And if I had access to margaritas in a bottle I would do what I did last night: drink half (a third?) of the jug-sized bottle and then wake up the next morning with a killer headache wondering why I thought it was a good idea to drink that much. But, hey, it was a Halloween party in an empty storefront below old doctors' offices (a dentist and a gynecologist). And there was '80s music and much dancing to be done. That isn't something that happens every day.

I met John Hodgman yesterday. Okay, "met" may be a bit strong. I was one of the few audience members who introduced themselves (he asked our names). He gave me brandy (me and a bunch of other audience members). He read a piece about the Mall of America and a place in the MoA food court that made food normally served at the Minnesota State Fair: meaning it was fried and on a stick. (He referenced fried cheese curds on a stick. Cheese curds can be fried -- and they are awesome -- but they are too small to be put on a stick; if anyone could screw up cheese curds it is a bunch of Minnesotans.) He signed my book. I told him my name ("Oh, we met earlier," he said) and thanked him for the brandy. He was fuh-nee.

*edit* And since I gave ME her signed copy of The Areas of my Expertise, I can tell you that he singed her copy and wished her a Happy Arbor Day. And birthday. Love.him.