It’s Only Thursday

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by Gaby Felknor

Spring has sprung in the city, people! And that means one thing and one thing only: Madison nightlife is heating up more than ever.

The long winter is finally over and students across campus have been struck with Spring fever. As cookouts replace classes and beer replaces books, it’s hard to prioritize the fundamentals with all the fun waiting to be had. It’s official, girls: hemlines are getting shorter and bare legs are making a comeback! I believe a farewell salute to our Uggs and Northface attire is in order.

All this nice weather has convinced me to start the weekend early, so when Thursday night rolls around I open my Smashbox makeup kit and turn up my Chi hair straightener to a sizzling 392 degrees.


But what to wear?

Wine glass in hand, I consult my closet.  I settle on a pair of tan, suede peep toes, skinny jeans, a pale pink, silk, sleeveless top and my signature Michael Kors leather jacket.

“Five minutes til we’re outta here, ladies!” my roommate Paige warns the five girls of apartment 1230. Seventeen minutes later we’re finally making our way downtown. (Fail #1.)

First stop: Chasers.

“Vodka and diet tonic, please.” While at the bar we spot our friend Chase attempting to buy the bottle of Patron from the bartender. ($80 fail.) We grab him and snag a booth to take in the crowd. Definitely a lot of skirts and dresses out tonight. Bravo, girls!


After midnight already?

We finish our drinks and head to Brothers. It must be the warm weather that’s making everyone want to move to the music. By the time Bruno Mars’ “Grenade” comes on, I’m breaking a sweat.

“Water break anyone?” I suggest.

“If by water you mean a rum and coke, then yes,” Paige says as she grabs my arm and leads me to the bar. This time we’re lucky enough to get a free drink as Fratdaddy and Wingman offer to pick up the tab. Don’t you just love the conversations that happen in bars? They always seem to start with names and majors, but somewhere along the line normal conversation turns into awful pick up lines, which turn into “Do you ladies want to dance?” I respond to this with “Umm…be right back I’ve gotta pee,” and my speedy escape. With our arms linked, laughing so hard we shake, Paige and I head towards the restroom then quickly duck into a nearby booth.

“Hey gorgeous, who are ya hiding from?”


Sweet Jesus! This booth is ocupado!!

I turn around and find myself eye to eye with someone I’ll call Mr. Badass, a guy I met at Wando’s a few weeks back. (This constitutes a megafail.) But somehow I manage to regain my composure and exchange a bit of small talk despite his distractingly deep blue eyes. Before I know it Paige gets a text that the rest of the girls went to the KK.


Such inopportune timing.

We head to the KK to round up the troops, and what do ya know, the line is down the block.

“Let’s see if Taylor Swift can get us past this line,” Chase says to me with a wink.

Over spring break I purchased a Taylor Swift novelty driver’s license and have been dying to try it out. So I channel all my liquid courage and prepare my most charming southern accent.

“ID, please.”

The bouncer examines my new license and begins to give it back to me. This is too good to be true. Just as I reach out my hand to take Ms. Swift’s ID back, he hesitates and calls over another bouncer.

“…This isn’t you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not Taylor Swift.”

“Y’all must be jokin’, I jus’ finished up ma gig downtown.”

“…This isn’t even a real license.”

“Are you seriously not going to let Taylor Swift into your bar?” Paige chimes in.


Stifled snort.

“It says under restrictions, ‘Kanye West.’”

The jig is up. We show our real IDs and they let us in, but we almost fall down the stairs because we’re laughing so hard.

“Fail!” Chase announces. “You would think you could pass as a T. Swift lookalike.”

It’s sad to see the night coming to an end, though a comforting thought comes to mind: Oh yeah, it’s only Thursday…


Until next time, stay chic,

Capital City Socialite

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