As I stand here urinating into a large porcelain tub, several questions run through my mind. For instance, “is this really my college bar?” And… no, actually that’s the only question that is running through my mind. And to clarify for you ladies who may not be familiar with the tub, let me just say it’s slightly more clever than if the owner had cut a large hole in the middle of the floor for us to gather around and relieve ourselves.
I emerge from the bathroom and as usual the first thing that strikes me is the music. The music… is… making… me… sleepy. I deftly shake off the urge to curl up in a ball and fall asleep next to the jukebox. Instead I head to the bar because as we all agree: sobriety is not the answer to our grape-flavored problem.
As usual, I marvel at the ensemble of bartenders: a couple of guys in their early 30s and one motherly-type. I won’t hold my breath for a scene from Coyote Ugly- I’ll also refrain from holding my breath for something called a “buy-back.”
Drink in hand, I love observing the many “peoples” of the Grape. Walking past me you have your ‘Lap People’ (orbiting constantly around the bar in search of the most exciting section- which of course is always elusive). And then there’s the cousin species, ‘Lap People on 180 ‘ Vodka’ (tend to jog around the bar and appear to have no attention span). In the back you’ll find your ‘Dart People’ and sadly there are ‘Dart People’ who bring their own darts. Of course the worst, by far, are the ‘Townies’ (they seem to have forgotten that they are not in there early 20s).
On certain nights you’ll find your ‘Premeditated Karaoke Singer’ (spends all week picking out a song and practices in the shower) and then the always-amusing ‘Impulsive Karaoke Singer’ (generally has consumed enough alcohol to firmly believe he or she can front their own rock band).
And walking through the door, five minutes before the Grape closes, my personal favorite ‘Last Call People’ (cannot handle an entire night anymore, so now come completely whacked for only the last 45 minutes or so). Finally, around here somewhere are your ‘Under-21 People’ (I’m kidding- it takes 27 forms of I.D. to get in- these people don’t exist)
Getting back to the bar as a whole though…what is the exact problem? Is it the fact that this place never truly gets outta control? Or that you’ll never see people on the bar doing body shots; or that there isn’t even a dance floor; or that last call seems to come sooner and sooner every night? Or perhaps it’s simply the fact that anything done over and over again will become mundane.
However, in the midst of my bitching, as I look around at my friends and classmates- I realize something incredible: These people are having fun. The people who complain as much as me are having fun; and then I realize that I am too… because we’re all incredibly intoxicated… but more importantly because we’re on the threshold of saying goodbye to a time in our lives when our cares and responsibilities are so few. So I say- live it up now… be more wild… do body shots… move those damn tables and make a dance floor… ’cause I promise you one thing: A career, a family, and a mortgage from now- we’ll all miss the hell out of this.
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