Disclaimer: There will be no North Face, hipster or bro jokes in this column.
Oh, infamous victory lap, how beautiful you can be. When I first had a glimpse of you last year, I thought we would be the best of friends, that we would “run this town” — whatever the hell that means, I still don’t know.
But as my victory lap comes to its third and final leg, I feel I’ve accomplished little more than racking up obscene bar tabs, meeting the same people uptown multiple nights in a row before we actually remember one another, and, like all seniors, barely staying calm in the face of my imminent future.
Some of us make a conscious decision to stay for a fifth year in hopes of finding out what the hell to do with ourselves. Or, perhaps more likely, an academic adviser completely screwed up your world, and now you’re stuck taking a 100 level course and struggling miserably during your final Spring Quarter.
Whatever circumstances brought you to this point, I think we can all agree that a fifth year revolving around Court Street can be quite depressing and far too expensive, especially if, like me, you have a penchant for the deliciously hand-crafted beers of Jackie O’s.
Oh, sweet victory, I had dreams of what you would offer me, but I have been misled by my own delusions. Once, I saw opportunities for this illusionary victory, such as a better sex life (read: more), free time to work out and read “for fun,” and time for figuring out my life. But now I see opportunities slipping through my fingers.
Unfortunately, buying Kamikazes by the baker’s dozen for total strangers isn’t exactly the best way to cultivate a realistic plan after graduation — or for preserving your esophagus — but it’s part of what this mysterious victory is all about, right? Sure it is, but it’s time for me to go beyond Court Street in an attempt at my own personal vision quest.
Who wants to risk statutory rape by stepping foot into The Crystal Ball in attempts at reliving freshman year over and over?
Not I.
It’s time to step out of my little Athens bubble and explore what else is out there because, soon enough, I’ll be thrown to the proverbial wolves, and no amount of incompetence on my academic adviser’s part is going to prevent it.
Will I find myself? Learn something new about who I am and what I want to be? Quite possibly. But one thing is for sure: I’m going to have fun doing something a little different.
Have you ever noticed the “boat bar” off Route 7 on the way to Marietta?
Or what about the “Big Muskie Bucket” sign off 77 North? Like, what is that about?
I propose visiting some of these little esoteric gems by bike each weekend until graduation. Traveling further each week as my graduation looms closer, I aim to find out who has the greasiest pizza, where the most “divey” dive-bar is, and what other places are out there for me to discover.
I can’t see any better way to bide my time until graduation, the terrifyingly intimidating “G-Day.” (Travel destination suggestions welcomed).
Brian Bors is a senior studying social work and a columnist for The Post. Email him your destination suggestions to bb113706@ohiou.edu.
