My father’s good friend always says, “Nothing good ever happens past midnight.” I beg to differ. Anyone who has ever had a balcony facing the street knows that people watching begins at midnight. And it’s not just good, it’s great (to be read like Tony the Tiger).
Readers, prepare to be taken on the journey that is sitting on my balcony at 1 a.m.
My roommates and I cuddle up in some blankets to observe the nightly happenings on 15th Street. As we are setting up camp, a man walks by clad in a cheetah print toga. Nothing screams masculinity like silken animal print. At this point, we know it will be a good night.
At the beginning of our watch, we quickly learn that “drunk” sounds the same in every language. We hear Hebrew, Italian, German and Arabic, among others. Regardless of the language, the drunkenness will prevail.
A girl and guy walk by, the girl relying on the guy for the majority of her balance. Nothing of great significance here. When pairs two and three stumble by, I begin to sense a pattern.
By this time, at least five people have walked by holding Christian’s pizza, and a 1 a.m. sober trip to Christian’s seems absolutely necessary. But first, we will try to barter with a drunken passersby. I’m sure one of them will accept our prime-time deal of 50 cents for a slice at some point.
Alas, a familiar face. My friend runs into the apartment to get a sweatshirt, leaves the apartment shortly after and then returns, exclaiming, “I refuse to wear pants!” You do you girl, you do you.
Next up, we have a group of guys still wearing game day attire. Because they have dumplings, I automatically approve of anything and everything they are doing. People who opt for dumplings as their late night snack are superior beings, even if they are walking around with chopsticks in their mouths putting on the classic walrus act.
To our left, we see a guy peeing in a bush. Lovely.
Next is a man on the loose looking for someone named Justin. If you are Justin, know that your friend has run a marathon in search of you. The soundtrack to this manhunt is a group of people singing, or rather screaming, “Sweet Caroline.”
Someone just came storming out of the bushes at full speed and I almost peed myself out of fright.
On that note, we end the night of 1 a.m. people watching.
Avery’s column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at a.moyler@cavalierdaily.com.
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