ThinkThought #18 : Twonie Tuesday

Being a student at the University of British Columbia, I have found myself one of the very few, lucky 50,000 to be graced with the opportunity to visit the respected and elegant campus drinking establishments, known to us as The Gallery and the Pit. The experiences I have had there have always been ones of cultured poise, and have left engrained in my mind memories that no doubt should be written about in a leather bound, papyrus notebook with scrawling blank ink. Either that, or written in urine on the side of the street in a pile of snow.

Last night was no different.


I present to you Twonie Tuesdays. First of all, if you are going to advertise the evening as "Twonie Tuesday", I should hope that drinks are only $2.00. This, however, was not the case. Not only were drinks more expensive, but lines were longer than The King's Speech, there was no seating available, forcing us to sit on the floor like children at a Bible camp (albeit a Bible camp where people get wasted), and drinks were poured with more head than "A Night In Paris".

Perhaps most problematic, however, was the amount of "Bros" that were present. Popped collars, gelled hair, white belts, and poor pick-up lines became the norm as I stared about the crowd of fellow students. One such pair of gentleman joined our table, as they began to play the game "Guess My Ethnicity" with my female counterparts. Apparently an attempt to pick-up (one that resulted in failure), they would get my friends to guess what ethnicities they were, with each incorrect response garnering a drink. As they were ambiguously ethnic, the result was an exponential increase in alcohol consumption (tell me, who is half Italian, half Latvian?). I'm sure this technique has often rewarded these gentlemans on more than one occasions with a grenade or landmine, but my roommates had enough sass to let them know that they were no such weapons of mass destruction.

Ending the night, a certain delicate species of "Bro" spoke to a friend and me in such refined prose, explaining to us between slurs and expletives that "Bro, I'm like basically married to my girlfriend, but you two can totally go out and get tail. As much as you want. The best time of the night is the end when girls are drunk enough! Good luck, guy!"

I would like to thank you greatly, for imparting on me such wisdom. You, sir, are a cultured gentleman.

I would like to suggest to UBC that next time you hold Twonie Tuesday, you do so by actually holding a Twonie Tuesday, and I would pray that somehow, you would keep the Bros at bay.