WHO'S ON

It's the kind of place mother always warned you about. Buried in Boston's clubby Landsdowne St., Who's on First? is the college community's answer to south central Amsterdam. To find out exactly who is on first--and why they'd want to be there--

By Pamela S. Wasserstein, March 18, 1999

Again, we hit the bar and buy more beer. Two guys next to us ask if they can buy us a beer. The one closer to me is swaying quit alarmingly, and I'm scared he will puke on me. "We could go drink 'em over there," he says, gesturing to a couch where a couple is making out.

We have quite obviously just bought a beer and are in no way interested in joining the couple on the couch, so we decline the invitation and move away, mumbling something about needing the bathroom.

We spot an unoccupied black leather couch, move in and people-watch. A group of women collects their coats from under us, which is a big production. "You guys go to B.C.?" one asks. We answer in the negative. "See, I told you," she says to her friend. Perhaps we don't fit in as well as we imagine we do.

Nearby, a women is dancing over-energetically to "Stayin' Alive." Her tank-top in no way covers her bra (big lingerie faux pas). She smacks a guy next to her with a John Travolta-style outstretched arm. Both she and the guy sway precariously and then tumble onto the couch next to us. They start to kiss. Then they get up and go their separate ways.

Emily spots our admirers Paul and Chris moving towards us. Like deer in headlights, we have no chance to move. They sit down next to us, and start small talk.

"You go to B.C.?" Paul asks. No, Harvard. Aaah, the H-bomb. "Emerson?" Harvard. "Wow, you must have a great summer job, huh?" Sadly, none to speak of.

Neither of them likes B.C. very much; they say it's not very diverse, socially or otherwise. They don't even like "Who's" that much, although they come most weekends.

Paul starts in with the lines again. "You're too cute to be here," he tells me. "Hey, will you light my cigarette? If you light your own cigarette, you loose your sex appeal." Funny, that sounds strangely familiar.

James Taylor comes on, everyone sighs nostalgically, and we all get up to dance.

"I really like Harvard girls," Paul says with his nose in my ear and his hand once again on my butt.

I am feeling like Paul with the great lines may be expecting a little too much and that my Harvard man would in no way approve of this situation. "I'm really actively not looking to hook up," I tell Paul.

Paul is disgruntled and goes off to discuss the new development with Chris, who has received similar information from Emily. "Sorry, it's not personal," I tell Paul. He feels better.

We huddle in a group for the last song, "Closing Time." "Goodnight, B.C." says the D.J. Emily and I are highly offended that Harvard does not get similar props. We bid our new friends good-bye, and head out into the Boston night, pleased with our excursion. It's nice to get away from Harvard every now and then, we agree, and the sketchiest place ever was definitely fun.