Further Inquiries: Throwing up on Public Transportation.

I was texting my one (black) friend who lived a lot of years in Obama's neighborhood, to see if she had ever thrown up on public transportation, and she replied:

Once I got off the bus to throw up.  The Jeffrey 6 at museum campus on the way to work after a night of margaritas.  Why do you ask.

. . .

Addendum.

I texted about the fight to the guy who used to date my one friend from Buffalo, who used to bowl at that alley, and he was like:

Doesn't surprise me.  I've been there late at night b4 and dudes smoke pot right there while bowling.

. . .

Barhopping: Bowling alley conversation.

Tuesday night I was in a bowling alley bar (yes, those count too, since anyone can walk in and get a drink).

It was like 9pm at night, and as I walked along the lanes I had to go past this fastfood counter and a small bar without seats next to a billiards tables, and I was worrying there wouldn't be any bar you could sit at, and then finally towards the far end of the place there was another bar, this time with seats in a little lounge area, and actually right by there an emergency exit door near where from outside I had seen people come outside on the sidewalk to smoke.

There was this short, perkily plump (blonde) (white) woman in her early 50s, and she asked me how I was doing, and after I said tired b/c of my long day, she was like "Well, you can sit there a while if you want, or I can also get you a beer," and she said that in a very helpful (not passive-aggressive!) voice, and I ordered their cheapest beer, a $3.50 draft PBR that she brought to me in a small plastic cup.

"Man, it's busy in here on a Tuesday night," I was like.

"Oh yeah," she was like, "It's the leagues, there's no open bowling now till ten, during summer there's a lot, but not now."

She then added that it was nothing like back in the day, when they used to be open 24 hours.

"Really?", I was like.  "When did that stop?"

"Over ten years ago," she was like.  "You should have seen it, we had night leagues and everything.  People get off the factory at twelve, and of course they don't want to go to sleep right away, so they come in here for a league that begins at one.  Then Friday and Saturday, this place was hopping till after four or five a.m.  The bar would close at the normal time of course, but the place would still be going on, and it'd be hopping till four or five a.m."

"No shit," I was like.  "So those leagues are gone?"

"Yeah," she was like, "The factories closed up, they're over where those condos in back of here are now.  We had the post office league, but they went down to [competing bowling alley to the south] for some reason.  Can't remember why.  Leagues are great, though.  They drink all night and you got a captive audience!"

And at that she smiled.

"It's too bad that had to end," I was like - but right away she corrected me, and said that it wasn't, since it got to be too much of a headache.


"They made us stop because of that one huge gang fight," she was like.

"No way," I was like.

"Oh yeah, it was awful.  You could tell something was brewing for weeks.  It was cold and so guys would come in, and we could tell something was off, so we kept them at separate ends of the lanes, some down there and some down there.  But, every week more and more guys started coming in, and then one night you could just tell something was going to happen, and it did, and it was only ten-thirty, before the security guys got here at one.  It happened right in front here", she said, gesturing to in front of the bar.

"Damn," I was like.

"It was awful. Other people were in here, a lot of families, and you had all these women and kids running down the alleys and back in the pins, the ones who couldn't make it out the backdoor."

"Holy fuck," I was like.

"There's that police station down at [she named an intersection not that far away] and they called them, but it took them a while.  Though, when they showed up, there was fifteen squad cars, and that's not including the paddy wagons."

"Holy fuck," I was like.

"They took a few guys away, and the ambulances did too."

"Holy fuck," I was like.

"Back then we had glass, and they were throwing glasses and ashtrays at each other, the place was a mess.  One guy got it in the head with a bowling ball."

"Holy fuck," I was like, and then I realized what I had been saying, and apologized for my language.

"Don't worry, hon," she was like, "That's nothing," and she smiled at me again.

I kind of paused, and then I was like, "So were the guys black or Latino?"

"Vietnamese," she was like.  "A few restaurants opened up down the block, and people started coming around, especially in the winter when it's cold and there's nothing to do, because you're always open."

Then, she was like, "It was the Thursday before Thanksgiving, I remember that because I work Thursdays, but I had surgery and had the day off, and the next morning I'm there at the hospital waking up, and people are calling me and saying, 'How are you doing?', then right away 'Did you hear what happened last night down at the alley?', and I'm all like, 'No, what, what?!?'".

Then, she was like, "It's probably for the better, you had a lot of drunks that late at night, people coming in and throwing two to three balls down the alley at the time, and you had to babysit them.  A lot of nice people, but a lot of babysitting too."

Then, she told me how they have an agreement with the alderman where they can still stay open as late as they want on the evenings of major holidays, and that the whole 24-hour thing started since it was cheaper insurance-wise just to keep the alley open 24 hours instead of having to have it locked up tight and no-one there for so many hours each night.

"Come back and visit again sometime!", she said to me as I left.

Exciting Latin lesson today!

I spent way too much time planning today's Latin lesson for my one student who's a dept. assistant on campus:

The library special collections exhibition space has a really really cool exhibit going on that includes examples of some the oldest Vetus Latina and Vulgate manuscripts.

So, I read the exhibition guide to figure out what verses were on there, assigned them to my student, and then after we read through a critical edition we're going to go look at the actual manuscripts.

I took 30min. the other day to go compare, and there's a lot of interesting stuff: misspellings, variants that are noted in the apparatus of our critical edition, use of enlarged letters to indicate Eusebian (sp.?) canon divisions (though they accidentally skipped one!), and even a homoiotelueton (where a verse gets omitted because they skipped ahead to the same word that was down the same page some).

There's also a really nice book with the beginning of the Psalms, and a 9th c. abbot's Bible from a famous monastery that's open to Jerome's preface to Proverbs and then the start of Proverbs.

If this lesson plan goes well, we might go do Psalms and Proverbs next week...

For sightreading, too, I'm going to make him look at "nihil obstat"-type ending to a 16th c. printed edition also on display.

Thanksgiving memory.

I had Thanksgiving at my one Czech literature professor friend's house, with her mom and another graduate student she knows.

I got a ($20) (pumpkin) pie from the bakery, and also brought over a couple of bottles of wine.  I'm not sure what the other grad student brought (maybe more wine?), but my professor friend made a turkey with stuffing and these really good brussel sprouts with cheese on top, that were gone by the end of the meal.   There weren't many sides, but it was a good meal and you didn't even notice, everything was so good.

My pie had slid in the box, though, and part of the filling had flipped out and I had to flip it back into the pie crust with a knife.  I apologized when I handed it to my professor friend.

"Look, it's deconstructed," she said, as she opened the piebox lid and looked in.

Called it!

I forgot -

At a big beginning-of-the-year student reception like a month ago, I ran into one colleague with his wife and his new baby.

"And this is Monica," he said, proudly holding out his new baby.

"No way!", I was like, "Did you name her after Augustine's mother?".

It turns out he did.

You know what I don't understand?

People's fascination with Scientology.

For one, if you're interested in fucked up abusive cults, there's far more fucked up abusive cults to learn about.

For another, L. Ron Hubbard was a very purposeful manipulator, it seems, and so was his successor, apparently, so in some ways they're just less interesting groups to study, than where the groups have leaders who are self-deceiving and destructive but not deliberately making shit up, at least not a lot.

I'd much rather read about the Peoples Temple or the Children of God anyday, they teach you so much more about religion and the world than Scientology.

Perhaps the interest in Scientology is a reflex of popular atheism, where people are set up to understand religion as fraudulent, and so they look at the group that seems to best exemplify that?

In any case, I recently had our library on campus order 6+ Scientologist memoirs, and have begun to read them.