From the outside looking in, Valparaiso looks the town college town that Corvallis, Oregon, or Pullman, Washington would love to be. Downtown looks like it has a little bit of life to it when you pop through during the day. Chipotle, Five Guys, and Buffalo Wild Wings announce to everyone coming through, that there will soon be college kids on the street looking for a trendy way to be anti-establishment. And since Valpo really is a college town--whether it wants to be or not--it is bound to have some of the best-kept-secrets in the whole Midwest brew scene. After all, craft brewing is the anti-establishment establishment.
After a basketball game, I cruised on up to the Figure Eight, pleased that I had beat the after-crowd. The joint was slow, but the area around the bar was busy. A lot of solos and pairs were holding spots for their friends by placing a jacket on the chair next to them.
Traveling by myself, I would have been happier to sit at the bar, but oh well. I approached anyway so that I could order a beer and start drinking. I wasn't sure how long I was going to stay if I had to ride the rail. As I waited, my Mariners hat caught the attention of some hipster that was reading a book at the bar.
"How is it working for you being a Mariners fan?" he asked.
"A hell of a lot better than it is being a Cubs fan," I came back with. I had no reason to think that he was a Cubs fan other than he was in a bar, about an hour and a half from Chicago.
His feelings looked hurt when I said that, and he began to back pedal.
"Are you from the Northwest?" he asked.
We ended up in a conversation about the Mariners and Seahawks, and it came out that he was originally from Seattle. His old man was a philosophy professor at Seattle Pacific--and in fact, after a little more bullshitting--I discovered that he was a philosophy professor at Valpo.
When my beer arrived, he went back to reading and I got on to drinking at the rail. The rest of the place was doing its own thing. There was a group of people in one corner playing Cards Against Humanity quietly, at another end two couples were playing a board game. An NFL playoff game was on TV but I was the only one watching.
As I sat and nursed my beer, it occurred to me that the crowd was getting thinner, rather than picking up. That should not have been the case after a basketball game at a joint right off campus. That place should have been packed and celebrating a win.
I also noticed that the people that had been saving seats at the bar were beginning to leave. They hadn't been saving seats, they were creating a buffer so they didn't have to sit by people.
What a bunch of dicks. I understand being anti-social, but sitting at the bar is not where to be anti-social! Fuck those people.
I grabbed an empty seat at the bar and made a grand announcement that I was joining the varsity team. Nobody cared though. I looked around, every person in this whole place was in their own little world. The guy to my right was trying to flirt with the bar maid. Somehow he had figured out that her name was Sarah, and made it a point to call her by name like they were old friends to the point where I could tell that they weren't old friends because he called her by name so much.
I turned to my left and looked at the philosophy professor. He was still reading, and was underlining things in his book. This made him look interesting to anybody who might have been looking for someone that looked interesting. I decided to amuse myself.
"Hey, Philosophy," I said. The philosophy professor answered to it, so that meant that Philosophy must have been his name. "Do you think God is a sports fan?"
He methodically marked his book and presented the body language of someone who was pondering the question with deep regard.
"That's a theology question. I am a philosophy guy," he said.
"This is true," I said. "But we are drinking beer, so that makes it philosophy."
"Well I can't argue with that," he said as he took a sip of his beer to gather his thoughts. Then like a true professor of bullshit, he had to answer the question. He got into some long winded stuff about how God would likely value whatever we value, so wouldn't necessarily interfere, but blah, blah, blah...
"I think God is a sports fan," I couldn't stand it anymore so I cut him off. "I think he roots for the underdogs and that is why they are the underdog. I think God is a Cubs fan and a Cleveland Browns fan. The teams that win all the time--those are Satan's teams--like the New England Patriots."
Philosophy liked my position and got spirited.
"Yes," he said, as he swallowed his beer with enthusiasm. "Satan is a Patriots fan. And a fan of the New York Fucking Yankees!"
There was nothing else to talk about after that. We eased into our seats and relaxed for having solved one of the world's problems. He went back to reading and I paid my tab. We lifted our glasses to each other as we parted to signal a mutual respect.
The barmaid gave me my card and receipt to sign. I asked her if her name was Sarah. She blushed and said yes. As I left, I smiled at her and said, "You look like a Sarah."
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