The Bird

During my senior year in college I spent a lot of time in a place called “The Bird.”  Like many of the seniors before my class, this place became a sacred place to us for the 2011-2012 year.  First of all, the Bird is the senior class bar, sometimes shared with townies, with an established silent pact that we tolerate the others existence even though we’d rather not.  It is one of the few bars that actually cards people, I’ve seen Trish the bar tender chase some underage kids out with a bat once.  She also keeps a nerf fun behind the bar.  It’s a legit security measure.

In my younger underclassmen days I never understood why everyone was so obsessed with the Bird and why so many of my classmates were so hung over on Wednesday mornings.  But then I learned, and I fell in love.  Like big love.  Team Tuesdays became a ritual.  I was devoted to that bar and the people in it.

The first week of school also came with the realization that my dorm, the always awesome Prince George B (also known as PGB) was the closest to the bar.  I could actually throw a rock and hit the back porch.  It was a simple walk down the hill, hop over the rope fence away from my front door.  It was the fastest way to get alcohol that wasn’t in my freezer.

I became that senior with a hangover on a Wednesday morning at 9:30.  My classmates often looked at me in disgust, asking how I could be wasting my senior year in such a fashion.  Didn’t I have papers to write, better yet, my thesis?  And here’s the bottom line, here I am, a college graduate, so you tell me if my constant Tuesday drinking affected my work.  In their defense it was a bunch of lithousers in that class, so I guess that didn’t really understand the allure of being hammered on a Tuesday, or ever.

I was never much of a beer drinker before the bird, but at five bucks a pitcher, I’ll drink pretty much anything.  And since I was usually all for shelling out the extra dollar, I mostly ended up drinking two pitchers of Angry Orchard.  And since we were such frequent patrons of the bar, I got to know Trish the bartender pretty well, I put my cup down and as soon as I went to get another it was already full.  On Saturday’s when Trish didn’t work it was a husband and wife team and their drinks were generally all booze and no mixer.  I got a tequila sunrise once that was basically just straight tequila.

Things we did at the bar: Karaoke nights, watch some asshole sit on and then break the big main table up front, watch a giant florescent beer sign fall on someone (bud light I think it was), a horrible amount of shots. Threw up in the bathroom and rallied for more.  I talked to townies I was never going to see again, and saw alums that just didn’t get that they were too old to still be going back.  They just looked like sorry frat bros and sorority girls who still thought they were the cream of the crop.  But worst than them were the lax bro alums, still thinking they were in their prime glory days.

This is a side note but does anything know if the lax bros know that we all think they’re a total joke?  Or do they actually think everyone at the school worships them?  I hope that weren’t that stupid (I’m kidding, I do) but I actually believe they have no idea that everyone at the school thinks they’re a complete waste of space.

The bottom line is this: I love The Bird.  It was the perfect bar, with just the right amount of off putting air, and the perfect amount of cheap booze.  Where else could you get all you can drink for a ten dollar wrist band?  I made my money back and then some.  Actually that night in particular is a complete blur.  It was also underclassman free and cheap enough that after Team Tuesday I still had enough money to binge for Friday’s drinking activities.  I’m just going to blame The Bird for my rising alcoholism senior year.