Pub Night: Apathy, and then a Redemption on Church Street

Nick Papageorge (1L)

Pub Night is appealing enough on its face. Pub – that’s good. Night – I also like that. Yet for first-years, pub night has come to seem like a duty. Thankfully it is one we cannot be sued for breaching.

Asking a colleague if they’re going to the pub almost always elicits a response of, “Maybe. I’m not sure. Reading and cases and sleep deprivation and U of T law and such.” The respondent also tends to ask where the Call to the Bar is on that given week, as if it being a block too far to the West will be determinative.

Of course this may not be the usual case. But this is what I do, thus it becomes the usual case for those of you that choose to read on. Faced with the question of attendance, we all – again, maybe mostly me – grasp at the most non-obligatory excuses.

Why do we/I shirk this drunken duty? What dissuades me/us from these weekly liquor treatments? Is it the petrifying nature of Niblett’s cold-calling – before you ask him to talk to you? The monotony of federalism? The very existence of tort law? The fact that I have to wake up before noon? Yes.

I surely paint a bleak picture. Law students not jumping at any and every opportunity for quasi-sanctioned debauchery should strike everyone as troubling. But fear not, for we may very well have located the simplest of solutions: Church Street bars.

As one participant in the most recent pub night put it, the Church Street bar provided a pub night that was “more buck and more wild” than the rest. Where other such nights were said to be exhausting, this one was, “I don’t know…just way different.” Others were just happy that the law faculty was willing to come out and support this sort of night.

Some kissed a girl, and they liked it; others did not care, and they loved it. Lyrics to that effect had many swarming the stage at the night’s end – an unruly mass of humanity overtaking the androgynous performers, seemingly to the establishment’s delight (at the very least there were no ejections that I saw, and I was a prime candidate). It was total cacophony and chaos in the dance hall, lasers and all. Once the final descent into madness was complete there was nothing less than unadulterated excitement flowing out of the venue.

From this pint forward, only Church Street pub nights will do.