Call me square, but this is the last thing I want to hear when I'm at a bar.

Although this was the first (and hopefully last) time that I'd witnessed such frat-tastic gamesmanship in a public place, it didn't stop me from having a blast. Rather, my fun rested in observing the stinking-drunk personification of John Belushi's "COLLEGE" T-shirt.

Dimly lit Sal's is small and unadorned, making it the perfect place to humbly enjoy a pitcher and a game. For some reason, I ended up there on a night when dozens of kids were declaring open war on their livers. Glammed-up girls sipped Bay Breezes and talked shit about their roommates; two guys in matching black tank tops silently tried to convince onlookers that they only liked Crazy Town's older albums; and the bartender, who was working his first night, was so overwhelmed that he lost his voice. I tipped accordingly.

The undisputed center of attention was a guy whose popped collar was only rivaled in gravitational greatness by his meticulously spiked hair. His room-working ability was breathtaking—every few minutes, he'd break from a conversation and simultaneously start three new ones, all while ordering drinks for his crew. Dude has a future in PR/cirrhosis.

At one point, a bizarre woman wearing a pigtail wig walked in and pilfered some kid's beer money. The guy ran outside to stop her, but returned empty-handed. I took this as the perfect metaphor for college—enjoy it while you can, because it won't be long before it's snatched from under your nose.

By a crazy bum.