Crappy hip-hop played out while people in untucked striped-shirts and crooked baseball caps tried to grind in what they had confused for a nightclub. Due to the cold the windows had fogged up, this was no time recreate a Nelly film clip, or that scene from Titanic.
Someone else in the bar played The Killers, a Lee-Roy staple while another played 'Dancing in the Dark', pure sweaty Mike. The place was still great, but it wasn't the same without the company I'd grown fond of sharing pitchers with. We left with a minor snowball fight, that ended with me in the snow just off the footpath.
The next night was a reunion with Peach, Sam, Alex and myself all enjoying copious amounts of tea while the New York jets obliterated the New England Patriots in the NFL playoffs. The obnoxious Massachusetts sports fan was silenced, and as a supporter of any team that plays the Patriots, Red Sox, Celtics and Bruins, I was ecstatic that my new found team had one. We had received a warning about rioting on the campus post game, but it turned out to be a prediction more akin to Y2K.
Sam, who had grown fond of the snow, appeared happiest to be back in Amherst. He was willing to kiss the hallowed turf if the white stuff had not got in the way. Oh well, the best way to warm up after an adventure in the snow is to head back to Stackers, for another round of pitchers.
This time Alex was able to join in. His new licence had the fortunate mistake of printing his erroneous age, as well as being generally incorrect. Sick and tired of terrible hip hop, we offered 80s ballads, songs by The Offspring and Weezer and dismissed anyone who dared play 'Thong Song'.
There were Patriots fans around, but they were as subdued as their team's attack (boom!). Justin Beiber played out through the speaks and a random girl called out Alex on his resemblance to the tiny Canadian. By the end of the night we were all thinking about how great the upcoming semester is going to be, but the words that continued to flow from my mouth were all focused on the past tense, and how I wished there were still particular people around to share it with.
Also, this seemed like a good idea at 2AM and minus whatever outside.
Bon Iver - Your Love
The Outfield's seminal power ballad, Your Love, is probably the finest 4 minutes of the decade that was the 80s. However, when Bon Iver, a miserable, slow and sleepy band, cover the song it attains a new level of romantic tragedy and fulfilled 80s irony. Also, listen to Bon Iver before bed, it is where it's at.