I’ll admit it. I’m a CTB junkie. Monday nights, Sunday nights, and ever more often on Saturday nights, I’m usually there. Come by around 1:30 am and if I’m in a good mood, I just might buy you something with my city bucks. Yay Bursar!
Now, don’t get me wrong — I’m a pretty exciting person. Well, some may think so, it’s debatable. But my status as a regular at College Town Bagels is not so much evidence that my Saturday night activities are relatively lame, but rather that there is not much of a nightlife for Cornell kids who are unfortunately under 21.
I’ve toyed with the possibility of getting a fake. But honestly, if I were a bouncer and I saw some gnome-like blonde girl, barely over 5 feet tall, trying to get into the Chapter House, I’d be highly skeptical. And I’ve heard the horror story at least 20 times of the kid who tried to buy alcohol with a fake and got locked in the liquor store, held prisoner until the cops arrived. The whole idea makes me nervous. Maybe it’s just because I’m just a wuss. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to spend 90 bucks on a fake ID that I’ll never have the balls to use. Either way it doesn’t matter because I don’t have one, so that means no bars, no bouncers, and no nazi liquor store owners.
And forget the College Town bar scene for a second — frat parties are just really fucking annoying. Crazy horny drunk people jammed together in some claustrophobic house where the floor creeks and cracks as more and more people start jumping around in a manic hysteria of sweat and hard-ons. Yes, there’s free alcohol everywhere. And yes, there are beautiful people with perfect tans ready and eager to take off your clothes. But, ya know, that just doesn’t do it for me. And even if it did, there’s nothing like your freshman year to get you really burnt out on the whole frat-booty-boobs scene.
So what do I usually do to have fun? Do I have fun? Yeah, I’m sure I do. Thanks to things like Risley’s Rocky Horror and Fall Creek Pictures, I can be entertained without consuming copious amounts of alcohol. And there’s always my best friend Sam who will go to CTB with me at the drop of a hat to help me recover from a traumatizing party experience. Thanks Sam! Sometimes there’s nothing better than just hanging out with friends in our centrally located bagel joint at 1:30 in the morning drinking tea, eating cheesecake brownies, and making fun of all the ridiculous girls wearing their fuck-me-now shoes and Abercrombie mini skirts. If only CTB stayed open later than 2 am. Oh man, that’d be the life!
Archived article by Lauren Beene
Sun Staff Writer