From August, 2009The story so far ...
|The Clark, the Illidge, the Booth|
Our story continues...
As weeks passed, and the semester’s stresses surmounted sanity, the colleagues found more and more occasion to seek sustenance and succor at the secluded center of the pub, away from students and syllabi and stupidity. Soon, it was enough to just ask, 'The Booth?' and everyone understood. And the word spread, with invitations to other professors and people purloined with the pollution of professionalism. Then in the course of events, the group was joined by The Boar Hunter, The Captain of the USS Pun, Zman the Worrier, The Afghan Traveler, and The Brunette Brett. Yea, even the tee-totaling Queen Bee occasionally deigned to descend to the depths and dignify the denizens with her demeanor.
"Soon it was also, that other purgatorial souls from the Harvard of the Plains, near the soon-to-be extinct Dairy Queen, north of Second and south of the water tower, discovered the delights of delving into the devilment of the journalism junkies. Professors from music, history, political science, even assistant deans could not ignore the raucous ramblings of those gathered under the dim yellow light of The Booth. They’d stop, while passing by to their furtive meetings to have an evening refreshment, and shake their heads and smile and gaze in admiration at the gregarious groupies having a good time, contrary to all rules and stipulations of the rigor mortis of higher education. They even sometimes joined in the banter. The Booth became the neighborhood bar and a legend in their minds.
"There they would gather to be regaled by the wit, wisdom and wonderment of The Illidge telling tales of yesteryear. If the day had been long and frustrating, if the administrative edicts had been more unfair than usual, then The Illidge would smile, and exclaim, 'Ah, the vagaries and vicissitudes of life.' And yeah, verily, all could laugh.
"The vagaries and vicissitudes of life"
"Such was the joy of the Booth, watered with beer, vodka, Irish whiskey, Scotch, and other holy spirits. Yet, in the words of The Clark—'If it weren’t for Kansas, we wouldn’t appreciate Colorado,' all joys are made possible with sorrows… ."
To be continued…
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