4 - Evanston: We jeopardize a sacred sorority rite


       Evanston, 1978: Somehow we learned about a fraternity party. As we tried to find it, we found ourselves in sorority row, so we walked up to a door and knocked. 

       A young woman answered and before we could say a thing, she hissed, "Get off the porch! Get off the porch!" We backed away in confusion, not fast enough for the sisters, who kept shouting after us, "Get off the porch! This is the final day of rush week!"

        To this day, Bruce insists the whole "rush week" claim was a bunch of hooey - it was actually their way of saying they had no interest in us whatsoever. 

         In any event, we found the party. The Four M Band - the "Most Magnificent Music Makers" - weren't Otis Day and the Knights, but they had hundreds of enthusiastic Northwestern students dancing to "Shout" and no doubt something from Saturday Night Fever. 

         Now the next part of my 1978 party description is not "2018" politically correct, on oh, say, about five different levels. Let's just say it referenced two ethnic groups, a disability, and delved into other familiar college party themes. But the main point, it was one kicking party!

         Contrast that with 2018. I went into the Whiskey Thief Tavern  It was desultory and I didn't see a single toga. I had a craft cocktail and some roast broccoli. 

         (By the way, I can't recall anything cruciferous in a 1978 restaurant, unless you counted the proprietor.)

         One thing the two visits did have in common was camping north of Evanston. In 1978, we left the party, "Drove until I just couldn't drive anymore. We pulled over to a rest stop and got out the sleeping bags. Beautiful first night's sleep on the road." I kind of did the same last night. I pulled  off the highway north of Chicago, into a local park around 12:30 AM. After Googling "Danny Cunniff Park," "gruesome murders," and "men with stuffed monkeys" without any alarming results, I slept here:

   
      I laid out my mat and sleeping bag and curled up. Looking through the trees at the stars and the harvest moon was a treat. I was about to drift off when the first mosquito whined. I pulled up my hoodie and retreated into the bag, sleeping fitfully. When I did drop off, I dreamt both hands were covered with giant blood-sucked craters.

      Yet I'm glad I slept there. I passed the Hampton Inn, but didn't think about it for more than two seconds. There is something precious about camping air. I think it gives me superpowers. Though I did head straight to Dunkin' for a large coffee before hitting the road.

       TOMORROW: Wis-CAHN-sin, the Memorial Student Union revisited, and Ryan Gosling from Iowa.

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