“Do the Feature Student,” they told me. “It will be fun,” they said. Yeah right! So being asked to write the feature student article this month, I set out to find just the right guy to fill the spot, and I had just the guy in mind. A student who shall remain nameless always boggled my mind.
Here was a guy I saw out at bars, it seemed, almost every time I went out or stopped into my ex’s bar to check up on her. This wasn’t the part that caught my eye. Lots of students party, but I later found out this kid is also a magnificent student. I named the bright, studious social butterfly, Student X.
My adventure to interview Student X began Friday afternoon. I attempted to locate the party animal in the normal habitat I saw him, outside smoking a cigarette. However, I was thwarted by the chaos that is World Fest. Still I had two nights to find the mysterious student and tag his ear for an interview.
Friday night started out with a trip to Murphy’s pub in Clifton. As I sat with a few of my closest friends, I began to question the patrons of Murphy’s. I would ask and ask if they knew if Student X would be coming in. Almost everyone knew of whom I spoke, but none knew if he would be gracing the crowd with his presence.
After an hour or two at Murphy’s, we moved onto Christies and Uncle Woody’s, stomping grounds where I figured I might find the elusive X. Once again the patrons of these Clifton bars knew exactly of whom I spoke but had not seen the sneaky lad since last week.
We then moved to Arlin’s at the bottom of the hill and experienced even worse luck. No one there knew the guy I was looking for. We left after last call and started the long walk back up Clifton hill. Taking heart, I realized I had established a control area for the beast. I had established what bars he frequented and which ones he did not. I would find him the following night. After all no student stays in two nights in a row, does he?
Saturday night started early. I arrived at Murphy’s at around 8 p.m. so as not to miss him in case he was only arriving for a short pre-game before a party.
Four Jamison Sours and two Budweisers later, I gave up on Murphy’s being the location of my catch. We once again walked back up the hill to Christie’s. Thanks in no small part to the ambrosia I had taken part in at Murphy’s, my focus on the hunt at hand tailed off. I began to participate in the activities at hand, that being bad signing, clumsy pool, and pronouncements of love to women I had just met.
Closing time came nearer and nearer, and I had completely lost focus on why I had even gone out that night (as if I needed a reason) when it dawned on me. I was there for the mysterious student who stayed out to the wee hours of the night and always seemed to get better grades than I.
I now remembered, and if by some strange fate I looked across the bar, and, on the steps waving goodbye, there stood Student X. I launched my less than nimble and more than tipsy body from the bar stool and headed for the door. The crowded room of bar patrons acted like a mammoth offensive line blocking for the runaway academic. I fought furiously through the never ending crowd of aleheads and made my way for the steps, which seemed more like a hike up Everest by this time than a flight of plywood stairs. By the time I stepped out of Christies, I could only make out the silhouette of the famously social student strapping himself into an awaiting car.
After two nights, $100, five bars, and a short foot chase of a speeding car, all I was left with was a hangover, an empty wallet and an upset stomach (stupid whiskey). More importantly I didn’t have a story on Student X, but I guess if I had gotten the interview, he wouldn’t be Student X.