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dateline: oZnook

25 october 1996 10:27 p.m.

It's Aloha Friday... another day, another midterm "F." Ironically, the prof gave me an almost awe-filled nod as I stood up and handed him my "blue book" while most of the class was still furiously scribbling. I would love to see the look on his face when he turns the page and finds more blank pages than not. At least it's not a core class. Talking to anyone about how the UH Rainbow Wahine beat this or that team is almost like commenting on how nice it was that the sun came up this morning. The game against Notre Dame yesterday was yet another short one. Derek and I got up just as the first game got started to get beer and some "birth control" (i.e. Gordon Biersch's olfactory-overloading garlic fries), and by the time we got back to our seats the second game was well underway. On the plus side, we missed the Macarena. As it turns out, the "Fighting Irish" spooked us for a spell, actually getting ahead when our girls were getting overconfident (probably the only problem both our v-ball teams have). But we still won. We closed up the last game 15-2. The night was still young. I don't think I had eaten enough all day. I took down my beer a bit quick, and I was feeling mighty friendly by the time we got out of the parking structure (a traffic nightmare that can take a good 20 minutes). Suffice it to say, the poor dear nearly wiped out a pack of would-be ravers after I'd refused to surrender his hand. My discovery of the week soon followed. Derek's never been to a club -- a real club, at least (Maharaja for his Sophomore Winterball doesn't count). It's a pity I didn't know him when the scene was good. Of course, "good" is relative -- I'd go anywhere they'd play anything-but-dance, or where you could get an acid high just by brushing up against someone. (Fun Club Prank #121: Stumble and drop a handful of confetti.) Pinks/The Garage, circa 1990 -- those were the days (and I wasn't even 21 yet... just imagine!). You could get Nine Inch Nails (Get Down Make Love) and King Missile (Detachable Penis) in the same set. I can't really think of anyplace today that can compare. Unfortunately it takes more than a warehouse to be cool. At my embarassingly vocal insistence, we orbited Waiks -- I've lived here all my life and only recently learned that's what "locals" call Waikiki -- then went up to Diamond Head lookout to gawk at the almost-full moon. Another postcard moment. After I nearly put a permanent dent in his hood, we grabbed his jacket and claimed a piece of wall as our "thotful spot." He sat on the wall, and -- figuring I'd fall off the edge -- I stretched out and rested my head in his lap. I cannot begin to describe exactly what a skillfully-administered scalp massage can do, especially when you're also looking straight up at the moon -- seen through a haze with a slowly swirling rainbow halo... I might very well have fallen asleep, had he not begun to threaten to braid my hair. I nearly paralyzed myself during the ensuing battle. Other cars kept coming by, and -- as I tend to get when mildly delirious -- I was starting to get paranoid. So after a couple of tries at making Derek crosseyed, we finished up the evening with some mildly stale donuts at Zippy's and a very slow drive back to my apartment. Weeknight dates suck. But... Picnic on Sunday! I don't think I've got the energy to do anything special (other than trying to find a real red-and-white checkerered blanket before then), but at this point I'd settle for a bucket of the Colonel's original recipe... and another massage.