Loyalty is paramount. As history has pointed out time and again, the only thing treachery earns you is a seat in the annotated and historical collection of hell's misfits. Perhaps the most heralded historical example is the case of Benedict Arnold, whose turncoat ways sent him to the history books not as a great wartime general but as a black-hearted and desperate traitor.
When one looks upon the present-day State Street vicinity and sees the huge number of bars in the area, loyalty is paramount once again. Without loyalty to one bar, a person will find himself without any identity, doomed to roam for eternity in the bar purgatory that is Brothers'.
My loyalty has always remained with one bar, The Plaza, 319 N. Henry St. I first entered The Plaza in June of the year 2000. And now, after three years of suicidal abuse upon my liver, I still venture there.
The charm of The Plaza is easy to understand. The damn building seems older than Jesus and oozes sin and vice. And unlike our collegiate brethren at Brigham Young University, the young people of this campus find it much easier to celebrate our triumphs and mourn our losses with booze and not faith, which The Plaza provides plenty of. Unless you have faith in booze, in which case it provides both. At the head of this chapel of debauchery sits the high priest of alcoholic revelry, Dean. Dean, who acquired The Plaza in March after working as a bartender at the bar since roughly the first Roosevelt presidency, has lured many a young person to partake at his second home.
With loyalty comes responsibility, namely, don't ever complain about the bar. You have the right to complain about various sectors of the clientele-the underage populations of hipsters and street vermin could be examples. Second, you should complain to the bartenders if they run out of booze. When this happens, you have the obligation to the alcohol gods to leave.
Things someone who claims loyalty should not do include bitching about the bouncer who said your I.D. was fake and to get lost, or getting emotional when something unpleasant comes up-say, the bouncer rejects your I.D. What you shouldn't do is loudly vocalize this fact in an attempt to fish for sympathy. If you do manage to scrounge up sympathizers, don't have them join you in a tear-driven, pointless bitchfest. This makes you look bad, not good. And my apologies to the of-age crowd at The Plaza and everywhere who must deal with the people who do complain and make life more difficult so they get their way.
Brian Lauvray is a senior majoring in history. He thanks Dean, the rest of The Plaza staff and Ben Schultz for their loyalty.
