We paid our money and we took our choice. We voluntarily sat in Science Center C last Friday night for a screening of the Harvard movie classic "Love Story," sponsored by the Crimson Key Society. And we have to admit that we are sorry.

We can't say we weren't warned. Anyone who memorized tomes of Harvard minutia to obtain the privilege to be a shill for the administration is probably not a good nighttime companion in the first place, but we were bored.

We thought it might be funny. Lord knows that Saturday when you moved in seeing bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, red-shirted losers try to make small talk with Dad about your hometown was funny.

And the use of the word "talent" to describe the show that was put on last week points at least to a sense of irony on the part of Crimson Key.

So it was with this attitude that we awaited the beginning of the film. And waited. And waited. We didn't get our first glimpse of Cambridge until about twenty minutes after the advertised starting time.

The results were shocking. For a bunch of people who pride themselves on being uniformly annoying, right down to a shirt stating their plans for the week, their timing was surprisingly bad. They couldn't get beyond about three words without the witty comment turning into unintelligible bleating.

Hint to Crimson Key: bring half the people next time and maybe they'll hear the end of the sentence. And only half of you will have to endure the silence that follows as a bunch of first-years realized they are not the lamest people at Harvard.

Maybe Crimson Key was confused. Maybe they thought we were the non-English theater. Maybe they thought they were funny. Who knows? Next time you see one, ask.

They're here, after all, to answer questions.