Mistakes will be made, from time to time

I mean, I can't be expected to be intelligent on weekends, can I? Actually, it could have been worse. The point is, it could have also been a great deal more pleasant. Ah, well... live and learn.

Things started off well enough. Jane had informed me that another one of the philosophy department's famous parties would be taking place on Friday. There was no doubt about me coming. I decided to invite Miraj to come along, since he'd been complaining recently about not doing much or going out as often as he'd like. I figured this might be a good way to shut him up from his recent whining. So he and Jane and I made our way to the party, and just about everyone had arrived, including a good few faculty members. (Those silly philosophers, partying with their professors... what will they think of next?) There was wine, and beer, and excellent jambalaya (in keeping with the marti gras theme)... everyone got beads to wear when they came in (luckily, without having to earn them in the usual manner), and conversation was all aflutter with no effort at all. So far, so good... we're having a great time, and all's well.

After a couple of hours, Miraj got a phonecall. It was Isaiah, a guy in our department... Miraj talked to him for a while, then hung up and said, "Hey, I'm going to Harlem. Wanna come?" Stupid, stupid... damn it, Emily, why do you have to be intrigued by every stupid thing? Right. So a moment later, we had our coats on and were out the door. When we got to a corner a couple of blocks away, there was Isaiah in his car, and he wasn't alone. Napoleon and Moises, two more psychology grad students, were also there. We piled into the back seat, and off we went. Oh, yes... to Harlem.

No big deal... I mean, I live in the Bronx, for crying out loud. And I've been to Harlem before. But what the hell were we doing there at one in the morning? I would find out before too long: Napoleon had some friends from his undergrad living there, and we were going to visit them... they were having a small party while watching the Mosely/Vargas fight. Okay, no problem... I can definitely appreciate good boxing. And it was a good fight, so that was pleasant, and Napoleon's friends seemed like good people. So the fight ended, and we were back in the car and on the way back to the Bronx... and another random party.

There had been a concert on the Fordham campus, a hip hop event celebrating Black History Month. Napoleon and Isaiah knew a few of the performers, so we ended up at the after-party. Okay... this place was tragic. Let's just put it this way... people were passing around a bottle of Jim Beam. Enough said. From there, it just gets worse. We all got into a heated, uh, conversation... I'll just say that race and poverty was the primary topic. By the end of it, I was being condescended to in a way that definitely didn't sit well with me. Sorry, guys, but I'm not the kind of girl you talk down to or interrupt by trying to yell over me. Miraj and I got out of there, stopping at a bar on the way home for another couple of beers, because... well, why the hell not...

The moral of the story? Actually, there are a couple:
1. When at a philosophy party and someone invites you to Harlem, don't leave. You are definitely having a much better time at the philosophy party.
2. If you arrive at a party where they're passing around a bottle of Jim Beam and nothing else, leave immediately.

Okay, so I've learned my lesson. I just hope that others can learn from my mistakes. I'd like to think that, through my own moronic pitfalls, I might manage to lead others to the light.