Tuesday, September 28, 2004
An Experiment in Qualified Privilege
What happened at Sue's No. 2?
This run-down gin joint became a favorite to Dedman and I our last year in law school. Located just across La Salle from the sprawling mega-campus, Sue's No. 2 (not to be confused with Sue's No. 1), always offered cheap beer, cheap pool, and some of the best people watching in the 76710. Although not the kind of people one would watch in the more cosmopolitan locales in the world, it was regular entertainment nonetheless.
One particularly amusing anecdote comes from after the counselor's graduation and exodus from Waco. I had conned my friend Rubin and his then girlfriend, Meredith, into accompanying myself and Roberta on a visit to this esteemed establishment. John and I arrived early, and, upon the entrance of the ladies, every dirty biker girl's head turned to scowl at them. Apparently, they must have felt threatened by women with teeth and clean hair.
There was a band playing that night. It was probably the house band "Point 08" (get it?) I vividly remember the imposing looking fellow who stood about 6' 2" and wore a t-shirt reading "I fuck Goats." Clearly, he must have been a seminary student.
At some point in the evening, this man's lady friend got into it with another lady, and when a third gentleman tried to intervene, the self-proclaimed goat-fucker responded with a barrage of fists. As the pummeling quickly began to escalate, we all watched intently, until I caught the tell-tale flash of the blade, and I recommended we extricate ourselves from the establishment for the night.
But this is not the tale of woe to which I refer. Rather, it is another story. During a break in the interviews at Baylor last Friday, my co-worker, Spencer, and I were discussing our years at Baylor. Spencer also attended Baylor undergrad, so he spent a combined seven years in that charming city by the Brazos. When I mentioned Sue's No. 2, he immediately gave a look in horror, and began to regale me with this tale:
When Spencer was a pledge during his early days at Baylor, it was widely understood that Sue's No. 2 was a safe hangout for him and his fellow pledges. Apparently, it was the sort of place where they could be sure not to run into any actives. As pledges, you see, they were forbidden to drink.
With this in mind, one of Spencer's friends went to Sue's one evening for a frosty beverage. At some point, probably as he was leaving, he was kidnapped at gunpoint and taken away in a van with no windows. His abductors took him to an undisclosed location on the west side of town, where they tied him to a chair and beat him. Every so often, the ringleader would return, do a bunch of coke, and wave a knife in front of his face and tell him that he would shortly be killed. This continued into the wee hours of the morning, the young man being repeatedly told that he would soon meet a gruesome end as his captors continued to inhale illicit substances and play with weapons. Sometime after this had gone one for a while, the young lad managed to free the ties that bind (so to speak). The next part of the story is unclear. His captors returned with a rag and told him to wipe the blood of his face. I guess they were too coked up to notice his hands were already free. In any event, they left him with the rage, and he wiped the blood off his face, and made a run for it. Not knowing where he was in town, he dropped the bloody rag in front of the door (which would later prove more useful than breadcrumbs) and ran off into the night. Eventually he reached a haven from where he could phone the police. The cops arrived, and he led them back to the house where he had dropped the bloody rag. Arrests were made, and it turned out that the ringleader who had been threatening the young man was wanted for murder.
Moral of the story: although Sue's No. 2 is good for people watching and cheap beer, sometimes the patrons actually want to kill you.
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This run-down gin joint became a favorite to Dedman and I our last year in law school. Located just across La Salle from the sprawling mega-campus, Sue's No. 2 (not to be confused with Sue's No. 1), always offered cheap beer, cheap pool, and some of the best people watching in the 76710. Although not the kind of people one would watch in the more cosmopolitan locales in the world, it was regular entertainment nonetheless.
One particularly amusing anecdote comes from after the counselor's graduation and exodus from Waco. I had conned my friend Rubin and his then girlfriend, Meredith, into accompanying myself and Roberta on a visit to this esteemed establishment. John and I arrived early, and, upon the entrance of the ladies, every dirty biker girl's head turned to scowl at them. Apparently, they must have felt threatened by women with teeth and clean hair.
There was a band playing that night. It was probably the house band "Point 08" (get it?) I vividly remember the imposing looking fellow who stood about 6' 2" and wore a t-shirt reading "I fuck Goats." Clearly, he must have been a seminary student.
At some point in the evening, this man's lady friend got into it with another lady, and when a third gentleman tried to intervene, the self-proclaimed goat-fucker responded with a barrage of fists. As the pummeling quickly began to escalate, we all watched intently, until I caught the tell-tale flash of the blade, and I recommended we extricate ourselves from the establishment for the night.
But this is not the tale of woe to which I refer. Rather, it is another story. During a break in the interviews at Baylor last Friday, my co-worker, Spencer, and I were discussing our years at Baylor. Spencer also attended Baylor undergrad, so he spent a combined seven years in that charming city by the Brazos. When I mentioned Sue's No. 2, he immediately gave a look in horror, and began to regale me with this tale:
When Spencer was a pledge during his early days at Baylor, it was widely understood that Sue's No. 2 was a safe hangout for him and his fellow pledges. Apparently, it was the sort of place where they could be sure not to run into any actives. As pledges, you see, they were forbidden to drink.
With this in mind, one of Spencer's friends went to Sue's one evening for a frosty beverage. At some point, probably as he was leaving, he was kidnapped at gunpoint and taken away in a van with no windows. His abductors took him to an undisclosed location on the west side of town, where they tied him to a chair and beat him. Every so often, the ringleader would return, do a bunch of coke, and wave a knife in front of his face and tell him that he would shortly be killed. This continued into the wee hours of the morning, the young man being repeatedly told that he would soon meet a gruesome end as his captors continued to inhale illicit substances and play with weapons. Sometime after this had gone one for a while, the young lad managed to free the ties that bind (so to speak). The next part of the story is unclear. His captors returned with a rag and told him to wipe the blood of his face. I guess they were too coked up to notice his hands were already free. In any event, they left him with the rage, and he wiped the blood off his face, and made a run for it. Not knowing where he was in town, he dropped the bloody rag in front of the door (which would later prove more useful than breadcrumbs) and ran off into the night. Eventually he reached a haven from where he could phone the police. The cops arrived, and he led them back to the house where he had dropped the bloody rag. Arrests were made, and it turned out that the ringleader who had been threatening the young man was wanted for murder.
Moral of the story: although Sue's No. 2 is good for people watching and cheap beer, sometimes the patrons actually want to kill you.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Hail to thee...
I returned to my alma mater yesterday to interview potential summer clerks. Thankfully, we were able to spare ourselves the physically demanding road trip we had last year, as we opted to beign interviews at 11:00, and were able to leave Houston around 7:45.
The campus has changed quite a bit in the short time I've been gone, owing mainly to Dr. Robert Sloan's 2012 plan, and the generosity of a certain Astros owner named Drayton.
Also intriguing was a harrowing tail of despicable villany regarding a local watering hole, Sue's No. 2, of which the counselor and I were quite fond. I am working on verifying the facts prior to blogging, as we now live in a era which prides itself upon instant gratification rather than quality journalism, and we must fight this trend with all we have...
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The campus has changed quite a bit in the short time I've been gone, owing mainly to Dr. Robert Sloan's 2012 plan, and the generosity of a certain Astros owner named Drayton.
Also intriguing was a harrowing tail of despicable villany regarding a local watering hole, Sue's No. 2, of which the counselor and I were quite fond. I am working on verifying the facts prior to blogging, as we now live in a era which prides itself upon instant gratification rather than quality journalism, and we must fight this trend with all we have...
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Episode VII: Lucas v. The World
The counselor has a much better compendium of information and observations on today's release of the much- ballyhooed Holy Trilogy on DVD than I can hope to muster on one cup of coffee with limited time.
George Lucas is the devil.
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George Lucas is the devil.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Good Morning Afghanistan
If you have the chance, and you have DirectTV, you must check out this documentary on the LINK channel.
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