Caws Radio

to the Peacock: a thieving, frat boy odyssey.

Being 21, I am now mature enough to delve into the immature world of bars. So last weekend a couple o' me mates took me to the most popular bar in town, the Peacock. It only cost me 3 dollars at the door and my jacket.

The first floor is the standard pool hall, where all the older guys in denim jackets with long goatees hang out. The real 'spectacle' is upstairs, where apparently half the population of OSU goes every Thursday. At around 12 everyone gathers on a big dancefloor and attempts to dance to the most obnoxious, offensive hop-hop the charts have to offer. It didn't take long for me to figure out that this place was all about sex. The guys show up to drink enough liquid arrogance in order to go out on the dancefloor and try to attract some drunk sorority girls, whom the guys hope will stumble back to their rooms with them at the end of the night. The girls show up to drink enough so that they no longer object to some intoxicated ass with a backwards hat bumping up against them on the dancefloor. Why? Because it's their role. If they weren't there for the drunken asses to take home, the bar would lose its business and the fraternity institution would cease to exist. Without fraternities, sororities would seem rather pointless and sexist, and they would go extinct as well. Without sororities, the rich girls with bleached hair would be forced to live in dorms, apartments, or other environments that don't deem them as "special", and that would be, like, totally unfair. SO, for their own well-being, these girls must put on short skirts, tube tops and (a certain kind of) boots every weekend and go drink themselves senseless at the Peacock.

Anyway, when I was ready to retire for the evening, I found that my jacket was no longer on the back of the chair where I had placed it. My mate's sweatshirt was gone as well. We stuck around searching for them, even after the bar closed and the lights came on, but to no avail. The bartenders were no help; I don't think they can actually see what goes on outside of the bar.

So that's that. I have other jackets, but I liked that one. It was old and it was warm. And now some other guy's got it. And that's just not good. The end.