I didn't take
this video. But I did go on the ride four times in a row yesterday. There was virtually no line, which makes sense since the ride takes only about three minutes from the time that they let you lock yourself into your seat. I imagined at the time that its effects were a little like the effects of shock therapy, except the shock was
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Suddenly, a hole is ripped open in the world and I step through it into a new micro-world whose gleaming face made fresh and wonderful demands of me.
That's one of the more poetic descriptions of "having a little too much to drink" that I've ever seen. ;)
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How've you been lately?
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"the males in the room form a homogenous crowd, each in their untucked button-down collared shirt, their jeans, their blacks shoes, their close-cropped haircut. Not a one shows a shred of personality."
And I realize this was me last saturday, completely. I excuse myself because it was a birthday party at a wannabe-yuppie-club for a friend's girlfriend who is, although wonderful, the type of girl who enjoys those types of things and such an occurrence happens only once or twice a year, but all rationalization aside, what a douchebag.
Fortunately the last paragraph made up for the momentary self-loathing. Whether one can solve the authenticity problem we all face or not, you quite nicely illustrate the simple joy that can come from, at least temporarily, refusing to care about the external constraints imposed upon you (of course, nicely lubricated by alcohol and attractive, interesting women).
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I'm happy to backpedal on this. If I were a better person, I would have at the time been more forgiving and realized that the indistinguishable frat guys were all individuals with interesting personal identities, etc. And on the train ride back to Manhattan, a number of people on the train with us were of the same identically attired crowd (although not the same party, indicating that the phenomenon spreads beyond The Dubliner), which means that RP's homophobia explanation for the social scene doesn't entirely fit the data.
Don't take it personally. Post-frat boy douchebags, as a rule, don't get excited about, e.g., Bayesian epistemology.
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