For years, I have been that crazy person. Seeing others take up the cause is enabling encouraging indeed.
My idea for a campus pub was born on an icy, snowy day in late April of 2006. For reasons unknown, campus maintenance constantly declined to salt Ho Plaza, otherwise known as the busiest pedestrian area on campus. Thus, every trip from the libraries to points South -- which included the food in Willard Straight and the drinks in Collegetown -- became an exercise in becoming involuntarily airborne en route to eating it.
As I was sitting on the ice that day, rubbing my bruised ass, I thought to myself, "Boy, I need a drink." And then, as it happened every time, I heard the siren call of Rulloff's, beckoning with its $2.50 XX and $5 pitchers of Rock specials.
So I would look South, to Collegetown, and resolve to get up and go get a drink forthwith. Unfortunately, this meant walking in Ithaca. And between me and the sweet release of alcohol lay hundreds of feet of treacherous icy tundra.
For a moment, I contemplated the idea of a flask. I quickly dismissed that notion, as having constant access to whiskey would be act of final submission to alcoholism.
And then it hit me, like a ton of pumpkins dropped from the clocktower.
A campus pub!
Why on Earth did I have to walk to Collegetown to get a drink? I should be able to get a drink right here! After all, this is America, where I can always get what I want!
Campus options were meager. Sure, there was the Statler Hotel, but that was expensive. And the two cheaper options -- Helen Newman and the Big Red Barn -- were fraught with the two creatures upperclassmen dread the most: freshmen and graduate students.
And so was born this vision. A pub, on campus, entirely for us, the greeks and near-greeks that frequented Olin and Uris libraries. Something of a cross between Rulloff's and Olin cafe, located within easy shouting distance of the Buffalo Chicken Sandwiches at the Ivy Room.
(Don Draper voice)
Picture this, if you will.
Two students are sitting at a library, studying, poring over dozens of notecards and page after page of handwritten notes. The boy sighs. He has had it. That's enough. He slams his book shut, and looks up at the girl. She returns his gaze and nods. They get up and throw on their coats and walk towards the door. When they walk outside, they walk slowly, savoring the crisp air. But then you see them, ever so subtly, speed up. And they start walking faster. And then they reach Willard Straight and walk down a hall and then down a flight of stairs and they throw the door open. And that's where we stop following them. We see them walk into a pub. The two advance towards the bar, stopping every few feet to greet a friend and shake their hand. And then, just before the door closes on us, leaving us in darkness, someone shouts something indistinct, general laughter fills the room, and the last thing we hear is the clinking of glass on glass.
It's perfect. It's simple. It's timeless. And it's on campus.
On that day, I swore to myself that I would not rest until my dream of an actual campus pub became a reality. I told myself that, when I finally win the lottery and become a millionaire, my first substantial bequest to Cornell will not be earmarked towards financial aid or cancer research or any such other useful endeavor.
No, my gift will go towards a more noble effort. A pub on campus, open every day, ladies free from 7-9. A pub where, when you order 6 shots, you get 1 free, so you can make a new friend. A pub where the kitchen staff occasionally surprises a table with a tray of appetizers, because why not. A pub where the 100th person to walk in every night after 9 gets a bracelet, and they get to drink on the house all night.
A place where any person can find libation in their break from study.
A wonderful place.
A magical place.
A campus pub.
1 comment:
I want to go there...like, tonight.
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