Live for the moment
It's 1:30 a.m. on a Saturday (or Tuesday, possibly). Court Street is littered with masses of happy-go-lucky college kids. Every bar is crammed to capacity as the beer trickles merrily down the throats of the collective Ohio University student body. Meshback hats (post-Ashton Kutcher, of course) and tight black pants are scattered throughout the scene like gobs of pop-culture confetti.
Your spirits are high, in conjunction with your blood alcohol level, and nothing in the world can break the state of euphoria that you have worked so hard to achieve. Your confidence turns to outright cockiness and in a moment of misguided judgment, you reach into your cargo pocket, purse, or if you happen to be forty years old and a dad, the little clip on the side of your belt, and pull out your cell phone. Your fingers don't listen as your brain admonishes you, telling you that what you are about to do is about as smart as spending all that money on Tiger Beat magazines with Jonathan Taylor Thomas pinups when you were 12 years old. But, before you know it, your phone has leapt up to your ear, and you are engaged in one of the most time-honored rituals in the history of being intoxicated -
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Matt Christensen
