University of California Berkeley - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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The night has arrived. It ' s 10:30 Satur- day night and I have finally brushed off the last vestiges of a slightly drunken slumber and have spent the late after- noon regenerating and preparing for the festivities to come. Although coming to school at Berkeley certainly wasn ' t my prime choice when judged by its level of nightlife, I figured that other schools with more incredible nightlife wouldn ' t necessarily promote my academic endeavors. But on Friday and Saturday night Berkeley actually does come alive with a bizarre energy all its own. To start a good night off, a good substantial meal is essential. Berkeley has much to be found in this department. From Chez Panisse and Santa Fe Bar and Grill down to Top Dog and Oscar ' s, one can eat just about anything for almost any amount of money. Food is a very important part of nightlife in the Berkeley area, and many couples and groups can always be seen lining up to get in- to this or that popular restaurant. Of course, for many students, this may be the only really good meal they will eat all week, especially if they live in the dorms or are lazy apartment dwellers like myself. Post-eating but pre-partying, I head for the nearest cafe to recharge before the activities to come. These are the havens f or scintillating conversation and psuedo-intelligence in Berkeley. Double cap to go is a universally understood catch phrase of daily stu- dent life, but on a Saturday night it ' s bet- ter to hang out for a bit and watch the people. Next to you is inevitably a self- proclaimed poet talking about one of the greatest feminist writers of the early 19th century . Of course, the cafes are hot spots every night, including weekdays. The best time to hit them is right around finals and midterms. This brings another mighty form of entertain- ment to mind, the libraries. Most people wouldn ' t call going to the library entertainment except for the fact that it isn ' t actually studying either. People go to see each other and to look for that mythical perfect guy in their Econ class, or that full babe in their History section. Anyway, the libraries are a part of the nightlife in Berkeley whether one uses them or not. While cafes and libraries are no doubt lively, parties are more along my lines for entertainment. This form of nightlife is universal in its appeal. All groups have some form of party whether it be an in- timate social gathering to promote academia or a rip-roaring, keg-a-minute fraternity party. Tonight I feel like going to several of the latter. First off, I cruise Warring. All I have to do to find a fraternity party is to listen for illegal sound levels. Although I can ' t get into two of the parties because you ' re not in the house, dearie , the third one is a huge six-way exchange that is open to almost anyone. Pushing my way through the front door I can ' t help but notice the Esprit labels, the button-down shirts, and the glint of white teeth. The air smells of beer, dancefloor sweat, and Polo intermingling, forming a cacaphony of scents. I wait fifteen minutes per beer and dance a then leave. Next I venture to an apartment party down the street. From the looks of it, I guess I ' m the only one there that doesn ' t know everyone else until I spot my friends talking to some girls. They tell me the punch is great and that more people are supposed to come later, but that ' s what they always say. One of the girls lives in the apartment and she is already frightfully drunk, which is fine because she doesn ' t really want to think about the carpet stains she will have to clean up tomorrow. I ' ve had about all I can handle of this scene, and depart with a friend to check out the co-op par- ty nearby. This party is definitely a theme party of some sort ... but we can ' t figure out what the theme is. But that ' s okay. The party is pretty packed, and many are dancing to the band that is playing in the corner, Dead Dog Spittle. We stay away from the punch on account of its sup- posed nasty hallucinogenic side effects. One girl is playing with a six foot python in the corner, and another guy is painting on the walls with day-glo fingerpaints under a black light. I decide I can ' t handle much more of this and begin to wonder whether the beer was spiked as well. I try to get my friend to leave, but he ' s busy talking to a girl with a multi-colored face who says she ' s disguised as confetti. Even though this party seems stranger than the ones we visited earlier, it also seems more en- joyable to the people here. The Greek parties often seem too contrived to be fun and apartment parties often lack the energy to take off; but these people really seem as if they ' ve cut themselves loose for the night. After a late night trip to Blondies, I feel a bit more refreshed, and realizing that it ' s only 12:30, decide to see who ' s play- ing at the Berkeley Square. On the way down University Avenue, I pass a bunch of my friends coming out of the movie theater. They caught some good flicks, and we ' re now ready for some high- energy fun. We all head off to the Square to see the Neon Turtles. The smoke-filled room and the stamped hands are familiar sights, instantly put- ting me at ease. The band is hot, but I decide that the gyrating bodies and loud music are too much for my partied-out system. I have a few more drinks and then cut out. My walking is slowed by the effect of the alcohol, but I pick up a six-pack anyway and show up at my friend ' s house. Everyone is mostly high or drunk and sprawled out on a huge bed. I give my beers away and settle down to watch a rented video of Breakfast of Tif- fany ' s. It is now nearly three and I think it was an evening well spent, having met some new people and having had good times with the old. I now feel comfor- tably sluggish, and at 4:45 I fall asleep with my head in someone ' s lap to dream of Betty ' s Oceanview Cafe for breakfast. I feel satisfied in making the most of Berkeley ' s nightlife. All I can say is that: There ' s more to life than books, you know, but not much more. — Ramsay Lewis