Beirut, Pt. 2, Ch. 2

So, yeah, Sciuto and I ate a lot of shitty, shitty Chinese food, and somehow derived satisfaction from it. Calling it The Mistake of the Year helps, I think. Issac (who is the essence of Bro distilled, btw) had already mentioned Beirut, and The Dudes (good call, Alex) were out on the porch across the street when Alex and I got back to the house, so, in the name of neighborly relations, I invited them over. Three hours later, the whole house, half the Knights, and most of the employees of Mike's Bikes were out in the garage (which is amazing), rip-roarin' drunk and throwing ping-pong balls at red cups (Dan, I agree, Solo cups are a must).

For reference, here is a working list of "The Dudes:"

Trip - Nice guy, rides a great mountain bike. We talked about mountain biking, which I can talk for hours about, but have not done in years. He wants to go riding sometime. I am afraid of sucking too much.

Stu - Did not stay long. We'll call him the Sciuto of the group.

Adam - Completely bonkers. More on him later.

John - Another nice guy, but I didn't talk to him much last night.

Bryce - His mom owns the house across the street. He lives there. Seems like a good guy; we haven't talked.

Dude who played computer games and didn't say anything when I met him - Did not come over. 'Nuff said.

Dude who was wasted and did his best to make things awkward when I met him - See above.

Okay, so we all had some beers and then played Beirut. When the Dudes showed up, a Townies v. Carls grudge match was proposed. Jake and I murdered John and Adam. Carleton 4 Life.

At some point, I stopped playing Beirut and started talking to Trip, who is about as amicable as they come. I've spent the last five minutes trying to figure out how it came up, and I honestly can't remember, but really, the important thing is that it came up: The Phut. That's short for Party Hut.

When these guys were 12 or 13, they built two additions on the shed in Bryce's backyard and christened it The Phut. The Phut subsequently became the place for middle-schoolers to go and get drunk, stoned, and knocked up. Everyone was welcome all of the time, so the place was never empty. The Dudes would just go back there and hang with whoever was there. According to them, The Phut has a level of notoriety that rivals the annual Jesse James Days festivities. PTA meetings were called to discuss The Phut. Teachers joked about The Phut.

They gave us a tour. The place looks like it came out of a movie about delinquent teens. Low ceilings, Bob Marley tapestries hanging from every wall, ratty couches filling almost all of the floor space. I was in awe.

When we asked Adam (one of the original "Phutters") how The Phut came into being, he launched into an involved story (which in no way answered our question) of his most harrowing run-in with the Northfield Police Department (he never said what, exactly, he was being chased for, but he did say that running from the cops was one of his favorite childhood pastimes). Then he told us about how, when she came to yell at him (once again, the details were hazy) he (direct quote, with sweeping arm gesture) "cast his mom out of The Phut."

I ended the night completely baffled. The Dudes are unsung heroes.

Change of gears: you should all listen to this song. Colin, you played this for me during Winter term, and it popped into my head a few days ago. It's impossible to not get it stuck in your head.

Wild Beasts - Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants

I like the explosion of Brog activity lately (credit for the coining of the term "Brog" goes to Erinrose, I believe). Dan, you are nuts. You should go crazy every night so I can read about it.