The Knollwood: she was Waldo’s nerdier, grittier sister, with the undergrad underclass neo-Bohemian types and student workers, across from the Birdcage, right on top of the campus, packed from five PM Thursday through Saturday’s last call. With a little experience and a couple of quarters, you could hold one of her three small pool tables all night long, shuffling for fresh pitchers of something cold from the bar, navigating through the few Formica-topped tables (with legion-hall style padded chairs, no less) and throngs of regulars and newbies, past shuffleboards and dartboards and payphones and wait! There’s that song again, thundering through the killer sound system on the then oh-so-impressive CD jukebox. Run out of smokes by night’s end? Hit the Den next door. For that matter, as you step out into the cool night with your ears and brain ringing, wait in line at La Bamba’s for a skull-sized burrito. Then hit the Den and snag your smokes, and, hey, why not? Pick up a twelve of whatever’s cheap. It’s only a short walk home and a few hours before the sun rises, after all.

– With thanks to Greg Smith