Its 2am on Tuesday night, your friends have just kicked you out of their apartment because you got a little too steamed up Watching Jude Law be a very sexy, but very mean young Pope. Your fingers are stained with cheeto dust, your hair smells like tequila and you’re just trying to make it home with your dignity and your eyebrow makeup intact.
Take a walk with me friend, all the way to Old Kenyon–I want you to see what I see, hear what I hear, hopefully not smell what I smell but you get the point. Here are a few things I’ve witnessed on many a journey from New Apts to Old K.
- “First we have to go see the girl with the leg. You know, the one with the leg?”
- “You look like a sexy easter egg.”
- “My penis is like a shy turtle…you have to gently coax it out.”
- “Dude, can you give me a piggy back ride, my slippers are getting dirty”
- A man outside the market who told me he liked my style and proceeded to sing “Closer” by the Chainsmokers until his friend hit him in the chest with a half-empty bottle of King Cobra.
- A barefoot gentleman milling around outside Farr Hall while his friend rooted through the trash going “Where are your shoes man?”
- An unidentified mustachioed man running into the woods with his pant leg rolled up and what appeared, in the dark, to be an enormous tattoo of someone’s face on his thigh
- A cat on a leash
- The ghost of Rutherford B. Hayes who personally congratulated me on making it through Southern Reconstruction
- Graham Gund