I’ve been thinking about my general mood these days, as well as the mood of the other grad students around me. It’s pretty normal to have a crazy feeling in the air as the end of any semester approaches, but this time it’s incredibly amplified by the idea that for those of us who are graduating, this might be our last crack at school ever. I think that realization has dawned upon many of us, and there has been an effort to get some last rounds of socializing, partying, and all-around good college fun in before we have to bow our heads in humility and enter the workforce, hat and balls in hand. Ugh. Anyhow, I’ve taken to describing the feeling I’m getting as “The Last Days of Disco.” (These are not to be confused with the “Fat Elvis Days,” which my friend Brian Worthen introduced me to…those are just a general gluttonous state of being usually associated with summer traveling, grilling, beer drinking, and lots and lots of lazy napping).
Anyhow, a good example of the Last Days of Disco happened last week or so. My officemate and dear friend Annie was having her thesis defense coming up, and she was incredibly stressed. I’m not sure what our line of reasoning was, but it was determined that she needed a good stiff drink. 10 minutes later, we were at The Sink. Annie got a vodka on the rocks, and I got some fried ice cream. We decided that it was like the sixties, maybe (Last Days of Hippies?), when a mother might take her child to the bar for a quick afternoon highball, while distracting the child with sweets.
One way or the other, it was damn good times, and Annie ended up kicking major ass on her defense. The fried ice cream was, as fried ice cream usually is, absolutely delicious.