Sadly, not in my field, and not in the medical field, where I was hoping to gain some experience in order to polish my medical school application. I'm bartending, and to make it even more interesting, I'm doing it at the University. When I consider the number of graduates I know who work on campus and continue to otherwise mill about, I strongly suspect that this will help ease my transition from academia to reality. Or prevent it altogether, which is truthfully what I am going for.Limbo isn't all it's cracked up to be. Cracked up may be an ironic turn of phrase in this case, as I think many people lose it in limbo. Liminal states aren't meant to be lived in, after all. I expect to be providing countless examples of this unfortunate condition as I snuggle into my new career, but I don't expect that any story will ever come quite as close to absolute pathos as this one.
On a Tuesday afternoon, a young man took a seat at my bar. He was blonde and mournful-looking and dressed in a grey suit blazer which he probably felt made him look older and sophisticated. The professor look is big among grad students. He was a certain brand of person, the type whose parlance and intonation do not match their geographic origins, and whose demand for respect never quite matches their productivity, contributions, or reciprocation. One of those pseudo-'geniuses' who peak early and then wallow in their blighted expectations for greatness and lack of inspiration. You can't really hold that against him, to some degree, that's what most of us are.
He ordered a scotch, two fingers, neat. His lack of eye contact at first communicated disinterest and dismissiveness, and it was not until he began asking me for drink suggestions and engaging me in conversations about anthropology that I realised:
a. He was shy and desperate, and
b. This was no casual afternoon drink
I promptly dropped the word 'boyfriend' and occupied myself with other tasks. The Lounge, unfortunately, is slow at three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. After more discussions about school and life in general (he was "pondering why" he always found himself drinking alone at the lounge instead of "writing my masterpiece". Oh, please), he decided that I was at least equally as intelligent as him, and decided that this meant we were soul-mates. I was picking stray cans out from behind the glass-washer when he fiercely looked up from his drink and spouted
"I hate your boyfriend. He doesn't deserve you."
"Dooode, you don't even know him. Eww, this is sticky."
At some point another member of his freak-show department showed up and they moved to a table in the lounge. I was glad to have washed my hands of him, but surely Melissa was not thrilled to get him. He had consumed a lot of alcohol by this time, and she planned to end his binge after his next drink, which turned out to be a shot of Jack Daniels. He ordered four, for the table, or at least that's what was assumed before he proceeded to drink them all in less than thirty seconds. Melissa, who is covered in tattoos and hates cuddling, is not the type of girl to put up with crap from silly little graduate students in ill-fitting blazers. And when he became belligerent after being cut off, she gave him the sharp end of her tongue and arranged for security to meet him at the doors to the Lounge.
My new boyfriend calmly settled his bill, and rose to leave. About half-way through the Lounge, a look of inspiration crossed his face. He paused. And then he sprinted toward the patio doors. And once out there, facing a wall of windows and shocked Lounge patrons, he unzipped his pants and began to pee on the snow-covered patio. Melissa proceeded to invite the security personnel inside while I proceeded to the patio, where my new friend was now attempting to stack chairs in order to make a graceful exit over the six foot walls.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
He looked up, slightly confused, and then thrust his head back in a dramatic pose and gutterally,
"Have dinner with me!"
"I can't do that. I already told you why."
"He wants you to have friends!!"
"I have friends. Now, get down from there, you are not Batman."
Despite how enjoyable this little performace was, it earned our friend a life-time ban from the Lounge.
