Better have the luck of the Irish to survive that line
By Jebediah Morehouse
The air is harsh and frigid. A single plastic bag blows across the street. The yells and screams of Mt. St. A students can be heard.
Fifty million stand in line to enter into paradise… an overcrowded sardine tin bar where you can get gay off that tequila. Tonight there is no tequila, or vodka, but the holy drink… WHISKEY AND GUINNESS. This magical land is not heaven, the garden of Eden, or crystal palace. It is the sparkly, angelic and wondrous utopia of Dicky’s. They can do jigs to stereotypical Irish music and split the G, that is, if they can get in.
Outside, the line goes all the way to Fredericton, and the students are brawling to make it through that illusive line. The Biology students sharpen their beakers, stolen from Phlegmington. The English students are bludgeoning the Comp Sci students with copies of Ulysses. The Classics students are pretending to be ancient Greek warriors, and are hiding inside a giant wooden duck (Dicky’s should definitely let them in).
“I’ve been here for five thousand years.” says Josephine Mère, a music department student. “My classmate, Gracie Anne Lockhart, said she made it in a couple hours ago. I know I will get in, I even sacrificed my flute to get this far, I can’t leave now.” Somewhere, some guy is groaning with a flute in his gut. Be thankful it wasn’t a saxophonist or a tuba player.
From across the street, snowballs are hurled via trebuchet. Students scream as they are pelted with these snowballs. One person is knocked out of line and loses their spot. Their cries mix with the screams as the students continue to fight to get in. Bangs are heard in the sky as acid rain plummets down on the students… or is that just pieces of a firework? One student tries to plow down the line with a truck, but the determination to get drunk in a university bar stops them from going further.
One student is allowed in every thousandth hour. As they enter Dicky’s, you can see their tears of joy.
“I feel honoured to make it in” says some guy, slurring his words. “I feel privileged to get the opportunity to get black-out and vomit until 8 a.m. tomorrow morning,” he says.
Be warned, if you want to leave to smoke a quick cig, you may never enter again.
“I made it inside,” says some white girl wearing a green shirt, “I made it to heaven and turned away. I deserve to not be able to get my jacket.” After making this statement she froze into a human-sized icicle.
In the Dicky’s line, there is only one rule, wait in line to get in. Then, the footsteps shake the ground, as three people step forward to the guards of the promised land. Their jerseys shine in the moonlight… the football players. With a simple nod of the head, they make it to the land of bliss. Before they entered, we got a word with one of them:
“Bruh I dunno why everyone complains about the line fam,” says the football player. “It legit took me two seconds. Bruh you art students are such sissies. See ya losers.”