C’est la fun
I left Kate’s house last night fully expecting to go home and compile a new CD of Pet Shop Boys and Erasure songs for which to work out with. Then I switched on my monitor and Mindy Hagen was IMing me.
Who’s Mindy? She’s a Medill senior, like yours truly, only she’s devoted her life to newspapering. And she’s really good at it – google her name and find some of her stories. When I was a sophomore, taking over the Chronicle, she was the inaugural “Tool of the Week” (a weekly award for the biggest schmuck on campus) in response to a slander of our fine paper. So when Mindy invited me to a party, I felt fairly sure it would involve pig’s blood and telekenesis at some point.
Lo and behold, it was legit. It is truly fine to be a senior. We’ve forgotten how to be petty.
Down the street, a few students who owned conjoining apartments had opened up their backyard and placed a keg strategically. So a mob showed up. At least 100 people were mingling and crushing while I looked for old friends, and finally found my neighbor from the Plex, Jamar. He had been storing one of my accordian files in his room when I was gone during Spring quarter. No one had picked it up – he’d left it under a bookshelf in the Theta Chi frathouse. We strolled up campus, he hit on girls, and we ended up entering the unlocked house to scrounge around for my files. The lock was broken; I tucked it under my arm and headed home, while Jamar hit on more girls, this time from DePaul.
Outside my apartment – and this was weird – I saw Kate and her roommates. They were pumping another girl for details on another party. Cops milled around us as we stood there (I’ve gotten used to cops breaking up groups of students around my place – it’s close to campus), so we soaked up the sense of danger and split as soon as they closed in on us. It was only 8 yards to my house.
Fun, basically. I don’t have enough of it.