There are a lot of questions I have about the Street. Question number one: Why do I always seem to run into the person I never want to see there - like my RCA, who radiates judgment? Or, even worse, those whom I never want to see ever - like my frosh-week flame or the bad dancer who always magically appears on the dance floor when I'm there?
There are other equally confusing and unpleasant encounters that can only happen on the Street. Last weekend, for example, I saw three middle-aged to old people standing in a certain taproom on a busy Saturday night. Perhaps they were leftover from Alumni Day, but, still, old people? Sipping beer along with the rest of us? That's just plain awkward.
I also feel particularly uncomfortable around the Jesus fanatic who stands on the corner of Prospect and Washington. Trying to navigate around him and his giant poster when walking in a big group is nearly impossible, and his presence always induces an awkward silence. I never know what to say when I pass him in a religiously mixed group, and sometimes I feel like he measures our chances of getting into heaven by our blood alcohol content - in which case, we're all pretty screwed.
As if awkwardness on Prospect wasn't enough, there's the whole extra element of post-Street awkwardness. Should I say hi to the person I met at a party the previous night, or assume he or she was too intoxicated or otherwise distracted to remember me anyway? In those cases I usually settle for a slight smile - a safe way to gauge a person's reaction.
Then there's another can of worms: Friday classes. If you go out on Thursday, and have class Friday, you are bound to suffer the consequences. Spanish class at 9 a.m. last semester was always interesting, as I had often seen other members of the class only a few hours earlier in various compromising states. Sometimes, however, this can help you make new friends; a classmate and I once bonded on the Street when we realized, "We have class together in six hours!"
But I guess the real question is: If the Street is so awkward, why do we keep going back? Well, no one wants to be classified as the most awkward type of person there is: the kind who never goes out. It's a never-ending awkward cycle, with no possible way to escape. We might as well embrace it.
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