- Quinnipiac men’s basketball drops home opener to Hartford, 68-54
- BREAKING: Finance chair Thomas Coe confronted by anti-child abuse activist, on leave from the university
- An Election Reflection
- Nation to Campus: Subjectivity and the Constitution
- Wasteful ways
- Students struggles at the polls
- So long, Rick Grimes?
- Will Part Time get the recognition they deserve?
- ‘Lotta ties, lotta ties’
- Crossing the line
There’s no place like…Hula Hanks
Life just hasn’t been the same without Hulas.
Well, we just wrapped up the first weekend back at school, and needless to say it was business as usual.
The thing is though, business as usual has been a little different this year. From crushing happy hours, to dice-rolling on the Toad’s dance floor, this year just hasn’t had the same weekend feel to it.
At this point you’re probably asking me, “Well where on Earth would you rather go?”
I’ll tell you where. Some place warm. A place where beer flows like wine. Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I’m talking about a little place called Hula Hanks.
Hulas was, and still is, the greatest bar I have ever been to. It had literally everything a bar needed: the hottest girls from school, drink specials, dancing on the bar, a rope swing, and my personal favorite, a timely Jersey Shore ab contest where I was robbed of a win.
I’m not sure why Hulas closed shop, giving us their ugly sibling called Wicked Wolf in return, but my life just hasn’t been the same. No more waking up fully clothed in roommates’ beds, no more fish bowls tasting like Samoa Girl Scout cookies and no more screaming at Patty about how great my night was.
For now, I will make the best of my Thursday nights, but just know that if Hulas ever re-opens, I will be the first person at the door, ready to spin the shot wheel at the back of the bar.