Thirsty Thursday: a student’s opportunity to take a regular old weekday, add a little booze, and magically turn it into a second Friday. University students of all backgrounds, majors and interests often partake in the festivities — regardless of what time they have class the next morning. We’ve all been out on a Thursday night and thought to ourselves, “Damn, I have class at 8 a.m. Maybe I should go home…”
But, of course, we never do; usually, we stick around for at least another hour.
Though thirsty Thursday is a standard tradition here at the University of Oregon, I have never seen anyone celebrate it like the bold individual in my sociology class just last Thursday.
That day, my eyelids and I were fighting the temptation to be lulled to sleep by the voice of our good-intentioned-but-amazingly-monotone instructor. The topic of the day was the concentration of power within the media and whether or not the notion of liberal media is true. Really, it should’ve been an interesting discussion.
But for whatever reason, it wasn’t.
Before I dozed off, or began playing with my cell phone (the Droid is a lifesaver for situations like these: Super Nintendo and Gameboy on one gadget — goodbye boredom!) a young man in the back row of the class, hugging a mysterious bottle of V8 Splash, raised his hand to offer some insight to our discussion about political theater. But something seemed, I dunno, off.
“What about guys like Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert? They are both liberal — Viacom owns them,” he said.
The teacher looks at him, as dumbfounded as the rest of us, and then another guy chips in, “Colbert and Stewart are satire. They aren’t in the same category.”
“Yeah, but still, Viacom owns them, you know? Comcast comes to my house, and they install the stations….”
Huh?
The class erupts in laughter. The girl next to me shares a handful of witty comments.
“That kid’s an idiot,” one of the students in my class said. “I’ve heard stupid comments before, but that was like stupid comments on steroids.”
Taken aback, the instructor attempted to avoid the subject all together, so as to prevent any more odd comments. But just when he successfully transitioned into a new subject, that V8 Splash-worshipping wise guy raised his hand yet again and made some more ludicrous and confusing statements that made no sense at all. I was unsure if he was serious, so I did my best to hold in my laughter.
Finally, after a barrage of meaningless nothings, the professor announced, “It’s my turn to talk!” and proceeded to talk about, um, whatever he was talking about.
I was stuck between the boring instructor who had plenty of information, and the rather entertaining student who was as coherent as a toddler with ADD. Cool.
Acquiring knowledge that day was like staying hydrated in Arizona.
The professor then puts on a five-minute clip, and for whatever reason, this was the V8 kid’s cue to get up and pick a new seat — right next to me.
At the time, all I was thinking was, “What’s this jackass want from me?” The girl next to me shuddered both in fear and comedic anguish.
He began to talk to me and everything made sense: He smelled like he had just swam in a pool filled with vodka.
Oooooh, that’s why he was being an idiot…
I paid him little attention, but he kept talking to me about “the white man,” (yes, he was white) “media bias,” and other issues that were far too big for his drunken mind to handle. He then said, “I’m writing two books.”
Yeah, on what? Mixed beverages? No wonder he was hugging his bottle of V8 like a newborn baby; it was mixed with something much more exhilarating.
I think he got the hint that he wouldn’t receive much more than minimal attention from me, so he went back up to his spot, grabbed his backpack, and left, came back, grabbed his beloved V8 juice, and left again.
It was the thirstiest Thursday I’ve ever witnessed.
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