I went to Ohio University from 1988
to 1992. Technically it was 1993, but I wouldn’t want it to seem like I flunked
a grade or that my parents held me back. The friends I made then are the
friends I still have now. We are planning a reunion for the end of June and
there are about 24 of us coming back to Ohio University. More than likely, we
will end the night at the C.I.
The C.I. was and still is our
favorite haunt. I know many of my friend have individual bars they like to go
to for other reasons, but for when we are all together, it’s the C.I. Our
favorite pastime is to get a basket of peanuts, halve the shell, eat the
peanuts, and then secretly place a half shell on someone’s shoulder as they
stood at the bar or walked by. Bonus points for getting a shell on both their
shoulders. That was a good way to make friends. We also like to run and try to
jump on the high shelf that runs the length of the front wall parallel to the
bar. Few could do it then. Fewer now.
In 1993, I was at the C.I. with
Crazy Jill. We were manning “The Step.”
Before renovations, the C.I. had an odd step up to a platform at the end of the bar and then
step down about 20 feet later. I assume there were pipes running under the
floor or possibly treasure. Either way, The Step was a hazard to many a drunk,
both stepping up and stepping down, and someone needed to help! Jill and I
would stand on either side of the step and ensure that C.I. patrons were aware
of the step. I, being a boy, would focus on telling the girls to watch their
step, usually offering a hand to help them up or down. Jill would help the
boys, usually frisking them on the way past. Both of us always with a, “watch your step!” The people sitting on the
shelf behind us probably wondered what we were doing, but enjoyed the show. I
just thought it was a good way to possibly pick up a girl for the night. Jill thought she might find her future husband, but that was silly.
On one particular night, Crazy Jill
and I were both very drunk and very helpful in escorting people up and down the
stair. At some point, Jill began to help the boys down the step with a solid swat on the butt. This continued for several minutes
until a boy, staggering to the exit, happened to the top of the step. He was quite drunk and,
surprisingly, carrying a camcorder in the palm of his hand. In 1993, a camcorder you could
cup in one hand was expensive and not something you haul around drunk at an
Ohio University bar. He approached the
stair and began to step down. Jill said, “Watch yer step!” and as he started to descend, she swung and
hit his ass. At least she tried to. She missed his butt and instead hit the
camcorder in his hand. He was not holding on through the strap and it went
flying forward. It missed everyone in front of him and hit the floor with a noise
that sounded like five or six pieces of plastic breaking Without missing a
stagger, the guy lumbered forward, picked up the largest chunk of camera, some
of the plastic bits, and walked out the door without a head turn backwards or an
angry word out of his mouth.
We stopped manning the step after
that night. I don’t think it was because of the camcorder incident, but the
quarter was over for me and we never found time to do it again. You never know
when your last night at a bar is going to be. Later the C.I. went through some
renovations and The Step was removed and now there is no The Step.
There is one last bit to this
story. On that last eventful night, one of the people sitting on the shelf and
watching Crazy Jill and I help people up and down the step thought to herself,
“What the hell are these people doing.” And then later, “They just broke that
guy’s video camera!” It wasn’t until my wife and I were married for a few years
that the story of The Step came up and that I was that guy standing in front of
her helping ladies up and down The Step and she was the girl sitting behind me, knowing that was the wrong way to try to pick up girls.
