“Oh my god, did I take my birth control today?!”
By now I had been standing in line to get into The Retreat for about 15 minutes. My friend Tevin had run back to his room to get a sweatshirt because it was uncharacteristically cold for a Thursday night in late March. Since I had no one else to talk to, I began listening to the conversation the girls in front of me were having to pass the time.
“Ummmmm, I think so. Like, I literally remember you taking it this afternoon.”
“Oh, cool. I want to get belligerent tonight.”
Fantastic, I thought to myself.
Before I could open my mouth to make some sort of snarky comment, Tevin returned, sweatshirtless, but he did put on a snapback.
“We haven’t moved at all?” he asked.
“Obviously not, Tevin,” I responded.
Just then, the girls in front of us turned around and yelled, “TEVIN!!!!!”
Eeeeveryone knows Tevin, I thought as I whipped out my phone to check the time. It was now 9:25. Who knew that some little hole-in-the-wall bar by campus would be so popular?
After about 10 more minutes (and a $10 entry fee) we were finally in the bar. It wasn’t as small on the inside as it seemed from the street but there were still enough people jam-packed in the place to make me wonder if any fire safety codes were being violated.
Per protocol, Tevin and I did a lap around the bar before settling into a spot for the night. As we walked I saw the usual sights of an 18+ bar: groups of kids with big, black X’s on their hands stealing sips of drinks from their friends with the 21+ wristbands, girls way too dressed up for a hole-in-the-wall bar, and, of course, guys who looked like they were wearing adult-sized versions of the outfits their moms used to make them wear to church trying to mack on aforementioned overdressed girls.
After our first lap around, we picked a spot that was a little less crowded than the others. As a member of the big, black X club (and an on-duty journalist), I wasn’t drinking, so I was pretty much in observation mode all night. And I have to say, bars are kind of the worst place ever when you’re not drunk, or at least slightly buzzed. Everyone was loud, the place smelled like alcohol, and the deafening shriek of “THIS IS MY JAM!” every other song was enough to deteriorate my mental health to the point where I almost wished to take up smoking so I could leave for a 10 minute cigarette break.
Alas, I decided to be social and get my best #whitegirl on. With a big, fake smile I decided to strike up a conversation with a pretty, brunette girl who was texting.
“Heeeey.”
“Oh my god, hey! You’re in my speech class, right?”
“Yeah!”
I actually wasn’t. I had just gone to Italy with my entire speech class and this chick definitely wasn’t there.
“God, I hate talking in public. That speech we had to do today made me a wreck. I’m so glad my fake worked. I need a drink and I felt bad for making my boyfriend always pay for them. I’m Lindsay, by the way.”
“Evan. Nice to get to know you a little better. Ahh, my friend is waving me over. Later!”
Tevin actually wasn’t signaling me, but he usually talks to some interesting people, so I figured that’s where the fun would be. When I finally nudged my way over to him, I realized he was talking to the two girls I overheard talking in line. After a few minutes of chatting, I found out that their names were Brittany and Ashley, and both of them had just transferred to UT this semester.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Ashley asked me to go to the bar with her to get a drink. I obliged, being the gentleman that I am. We found a small opening at the bar where the two of us could order. The bartender was a larger fellow, probably only a few years older than us. He was chatty, asking us if we were having a good time and whatnot. Ashley said she was. I said, “Eh.” When I asked him how long the Retreat had been doing 18+ Thursdays, he said, “I’m not sure. Only a few weeks now. I’ll tell you this, Thursday nights are stressful as hell, man.”
I’m sure they are, I thought. After Ashley got her drink (legally), we headed back over to where we were before. I was starting to feel that nice pleasant bar buzz you get just from the energy in the room and thought that I’d stay a while longer than I had planned. Fate, however, had a different plan. During the twenty-foot walk from the bar to my friends, I had a drink spilled on my jacket and some guy almost threw up on my phone. I took that as my cue to leave.
I told Tevin that I was leaving and bid farewell to my two new acquaintances. Making my way to the door, I was filled with sadness as I realized I wouldn’t be able to stumble into New York, New York for some delicious, late night, greasy pizza because I wasn’t in Ybor. I pulled out my phone to see just how late it was and was shocked to find that it was only a quarter past ten.
Eh, at least Salsa Rico is still open.
Silver lining, right?