There’s nothing like a trip back home over the holidays to
help you gain a new appreciation for the Westwood bar scene.
As a senior, this past Thanksgiving break was the first time
that virtually everyone from my high school graduating class was
over 21 and eager to drink their way out of boredom in the
suburbs.
And while I was initially excited by the idea of running into a
bunch of former classmates I hadn’t seen in four years, it
did not take long to realize the whole experience felt like an
impromptu high school reunion, and I became conscious of the fact
that I did not exactly fit in with everyone in my East Coast
hometown after spending the past few years in Los Angeles.
Eager to try out one of the four bars near my house ““
pretty much the only places open later than 9:30 during the week
““ I made plans to go out with a group of high school
classmates.
But it did not take us long to learn that we had definitely
picked the wrong place to meet. We sat at a table in the desolate
bar populated by handful of 40-year-old divorcees and 50-plus men
while the entire Cat Stevens collection played out of the speakers.
On top of this tragic ambiance, I realized that getting together
with high school friends meant being reminded of embarrassing
moments in high school ““ things I had probably intentionally
blocked out of my memory.
I could only cringe through so many people saying “do you
remember when you” before I began to regret my decision to
get together with high school friends.
But, not one to be easily defeated, I decided to make yet
another appearance at the hometown bars the following night. This
time I headed out with a good friend who goes to college in Chicago
to a bar that was actually packed with people our age and played
upbeat music.
But we did not even have to go inside to realize how
out-of-place we looked. Apparently the dress code for bars in
Westwood and other urban areas is more than a bit different from
that of an East Coast suburban bar.
Everyone was dressed in head-to-toe J. Crew, complete with
pearls. I can only be thankful neither of us was wearing black.
Once we were inside and safe from the snow and 30-degree
temperatures, the parade of classmates I had not seen in four years
began. We’re talking people I don’t even keep in touch
with enough to add as a Facebook friend.
At first I was excited to see how everyone looked after so long
(pretty much the same), but my enthusiasm soon wore down after a
lot of awkward conversations that not even beer could help,
involving majors, post-graduation plans and vague high school
memories.
On top of that, many East Coasters are convinced that everyone
in California is “out to lunch,” as they say, and my
high school classmates would look at me with grave faces to ask,
“You’re not actually going to stay out there, are
you?”
So I felt forced to try to defend all of California to a drunk
audience.
Let’s just say we did not need to stay until last call to
come to terms with the reality that we definitely did not fit in
with the suburban Maryland bar scene ““ which is not
necessarily a bad thing.
And while the idea of seeing high school friends sounds fun,
there’s probably a reason why you do not keep in touch with
certain people.
As much as I complain about the (lack of a) Westwood bar scene,
I would much rather be at Maloney’s or BrewCo, where I
actually have something in common with the people other than
memories from four years ago, and where the temperature never falls
below 60 degrees.
Plus, who really wants to wait in line for a bar in the snow
while wearing pearls and a winter coat?
Not easily discouraged, Rodgers is actually planning to
throw a New Year’s Eve party for her high school classmates.
E-mail her your advice on how to avoid reminders of embarrassing
high school memories at jrodgers@media.ucla.edu.