hardboiled blog

On Tuesday night, a little past 8:30pm, one of my roommates yelled, “Party on the street! Party on the street! Julie come!” So we headed out towards Shattuck and to my surprise, there was literally a party on the street. There was music playing from Guerilla cafes, a ghetto-fabulous-Berzerkeley -styled-Scooby Doo-mystery-machine with a couple of kegs and old drunken people dancing the sprinkler

Somewhere in the middle of this, I realized that choosing to come to Berkeley really was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Never in my life will I see anything like this and never in my life will I have gotten this opportunity if it weren’t for this town

This thought was strengthened when I went home this weekend. As my friends and I sat around recapping the highlights of our lives from the past month, I found out that this Tuesday night block party wasn’t a nationwide event like I assumed it was

Me: So did Stockton go crazy Tuesday night at around 8:35?

Friend: huh? What?

Me: Tuesday night, elections…

Friend: Well, we were in the library and when we knew Obama basically had it, we did a little ‘woot.’

Me: Oh, so no crazy rampage of students? No broken library windows? Nobody climbing light posts? Nobody climbing on buses?

With a shocked/WTF/damn-Berkeley-people-are-crazy expression, she simply replied, “No.”

So for those who missed out, shame on you! You missed out on history

For those who felt like Waldo in the crowd, have fun looking for yourself in all those facebook pictures. You have some awesome stories to entertain your grandkids in 40 years (even if you failed that bio midterm and now have to retake the class because you spent three hours on the street cheering with your classmates…your grandkids don’t need to know about that part).