Ewww, students.
Well, the students are rushing in like lemmings. I'm not sure how much I like this. This will only be the second school year that I have been a graduate, and not a part of this herd.
There are advantages and disadvantages to this annual migration back to Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor by the teeming multitudes of youth, as I see it.
I enjoy that there are suddenly that many more interesting people in the bar, at Meijer, and coming into restaurants where I work to feed themselves.
I do not enjoy that the majority of them are, in the midnight hours of fridays and saturdays, an eddying mob of fucktards, milling about the bar scene, making noise over my witty discourse and screaming their way between the bartender and my drink.
I also do not enjoy that any of them drive.
My observance of the disadvantages of the attending student body became disgustingly clarified last night, as I celebrated the end of the serving careers of two dear coworkers from Paesano's at Rick's Cafe in Ann Arbor.
One server is leaving to get married. The other is leaving and getting a real job with her degree in Chicago.
Not just a going away party, this was a celebration of them beginning their second lives. They will never again have to be sent back to the bar for an extra lemon wedge; they will never again have to drag a high chair through rows of fat people dining; they will never have to squat under a booth to pick up Cheerios flung by an ungrateful and undersupervised little rascal of a child.
All of this was what was supposed to happen after graduating college; but we all know how that works. The jobs don't come right away, you're stuck in bad habits, or simply don't want to grow up and start a career path/family (the author shoots a wink into his mirror).
This was a celebration of their final stage of metamorphosis into true adulthood. And thus, I felt I had to attend this event, regardless of its location.
Even a mile away from the bar I began to see signs of them; people smoking outside of apartment complexes, and small pods of party-seeking scantily clad women and overscented men careening down the sidewalks. Upon exiting my vehicle after a slick parallel parking maneuver, I was given much cause to remember why I feared walking down such sidewalks at such times and owning ears.
None of them have anything good to say. Party plans. How funny that one thing that one guy did that one time was. How hot or creepy he is, or how fat or slutty she is. Countless snatches of club "music" lyrics are repeated with stupid gusto. All of these and more, at an unreasonable volume and in stereophonic surround sound assault me.
I have an uncanny attraction to the absurd; no one has a desire or need for this such utterly useless banter.
Ah yes, we've all been there, haven't we? Or have we? I remember such activities in high school; drinking because you can, and being fascinated by the opposite sex. However, that was because it was all new to me then. I wonder, then, how most people really maintain such a youthful angst in their party demeanor throughout college.
I'm sure that all of these people are enterprising young individuals. I'm sure that, during the week and in class, they have interesting things to say. I'm sure that, when alone and sober, they will extol their love of certain artists, and tell wonderful tales.
I just hate them when they drink in numbers.
I am done labeling "fratboys" and "sorostitutes." I have met enough of these individuals, worked alongside them and been invited to their homes. They really are good people. Occasionally they are gruff at first. However, my "kill them with kindness" approach has allowed me to get nearer to these peoples' souls, and to find them good.
Why then this moblike socialization? Why must one leave their wits at home when leaving a dormroom at nine o'clock on a friday night? Why must one vacate their good senses when attending a bar? Insecurity? Intense preoccupation with sex and drinking? These two things are supposed to be the occasional effect of a night out, not the agenda every time.
Oh, I drink, and I suppose I'll always drink, and suppose that I've yet to embarass myself further before I finally discard my love for being the drunken rascal on occassion. Regardless of why college youth make drunken revelry in the way that they do, I suppose that until they change their agenda, I will not love their reentry into Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor every year.
I suppose that I will make my new "going out" goal to set an example of why humans are supposed to socialize in tavern settings. I will attempt to combat fru-fru shots and arguments about who is driving. I will try to make the conversation so interesting that the fact that the waitress isn't lightening fast becomes less important.
Ah, the students are back. We'll see how this goes.
There are advantages and disadvantages to this annual migration back to Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor by the teeming multitudes of youth, as I see it.
I enjoy that there are suddenly that many more interesting people in the bar, at Meijer, and coming into restaurants where I work to feed themselves.
I do not enjoy that the majority of them are, in the midnight hours of fridays and saturdays, an eddying mob of fucktards, milling about the bar scene, making noise over my witty discourse and screaming their way between the bartender and my drink.
I also do not enjoy that any of them drive.
My observance of the disadvantages of the attending student body became disgustingly clarified last night, as I celebrated the end of the serving careers of two dear coworkers from Paesano's at Rick's Cafe in Ann Arbor.
One server is leaving to get married. The other is leaving and getting a real job with her degree in Chicago.
Not just a going away party, this was a celebration of them beginning their second lives. They will never again have to be sent back to the bar for an extra lemon wedge; they will never again have to drag a high chair through rows of fat people dining; they will never have to squat under a booth to pick up Cheerios flung by an ungrateful and undersupervised little rascal of a child.
All of this was what was supposed to happen after graduating college; but we all know how that works. The jobs don't come right away, you're stuck in bad habits, or simply don't want to grow up and start a career path/family (the author shoots a wink into his mirror).
This was a celebration of their final stage of metamorphosis into true adulthood. And thus, I felt I had to attend this event, regardless of its location.
Even a mile away from the bar I began to see signs of them; people smoking outside of apartment complexes, and small pods of party-seeking scantily clad women and overscented men careening down the sidewalks. Upon exiting my vehicle after a slick parallel parking maneuver, I was given much cause to remember why I feared walking down such sidewalks at such times and owning ears.
None of them have anything good to say. Party plans. How funny that one thing that one guy did that one time was. How hot or creepy he is, or how fat or slutty she is. Countless snatches of club "music" lyrics are repeated with stupid gusto. All of these and more, at an unreasonable volume and in stereophonic surround sound assault me.
I have an uncanny attraction to the absurd; no one has a desire or need for this such utterly useless banter.
Ah yes, we've all been there, haven't we? Or have we? I remember such activities in high school; drinking because you can, and being fascinated by the opposite sex. However, that was because it was all new to me then. I wonder, then, how most people really maintain such a youthful angst in their party demeanor throughout college.
I'm sure that all of these people are enterprising young individuals. I'm sure that, during the week and in class, they have interesting things to say. I'm sure that, when alone and sober, they will extol their love of certain artists, and tell wonderful tales.
I just hate them when they drink in numbers.
I am done labeling "fratboys" and "sorostitutes." I have met enough of these individuals, worked alongside them and been invited to their homes. They really are good people. Occasionally they are gruff at first. However, my "kill them with kindness" approach has allowed me to get nearer to these peoples' souls, and to find them good.
Why then this moblike socialization? Why must one leave their wits at home when leaving a dormroom at nine o'clock on a friday night? Why must one vacate their good senses when attending a bar? Insecurity? Intense preoccupation with sex and drinking? These two things are supposed to be the occasional effect of a night out, not the agenda every time.
Oh, I drink, and I suppose I'll always drink, and suppose that I've yet to embarass myself further before I finally discard my love for being the drunken rascal on occassion. Regardless of why college youth make drunken revelry in the way that they do, I suppose that until they change their agenda, I will not love their reentry into Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor every year.
I suppose that I will make my new "going out" goal to set an example of why humans are supposed to socialize in tavern settings. I will attempt to combat fru-fru shots and arguments about who is driving. I will try to make the conversation so interesting that the fact that the waitress isn't lightening fast becomes less important.
Ah, the students are back. We'll see how this goes.