I met Ellie on Capitol Hill at the 201 Bar. She was all decked out in a gold and black lame ball gown. Cute – but a little overdressed. I admired her nerve. Other Princeton alums preferred the short miniskirt in a variety of flavors – neon, furry, pleather, leather, and spiked like their stilettos. Ellie manned the front table as event coordinator while I surveyed. I sat alone at the bar. The bartender gave up the cranberry and club soda without relieving me of my complimentary drink ticket.
So, these were the crème de la crème or as I liked to call them –nerds. These are the people with way more earning power than me and average Joe. They don’t look so scary. I made my way back to the front where Ellie was giving out tickets and snapping pictures. I sat behind the table. Floral Sweater didn’t seem to appreciate my bold seat. After all, I went to state school. She let us know by carrying on about her dissertation for about 20 minutes. This is the way the Ivys do it I guess. I didn’t know what Floral Sweater and Ellie were talking about and I didn’t care. The wrangling between the two of them chuck full of SAT (or GRE?) words seemed like a form of passive aggression I don’t get.
All of them seemed to be a bit off in one way or another. Too much eye makeup. Argyle sweaters that don’t quite jive with tapered jeans barely covering sockless loafers. Awkward laughs. Lingering too long on a subject even for the eagerist listener. (Yes I made up the word eagerist, I don’t need a Princeton doctorate to do that!) Specks of spittle. Elaine Benes dance moves.
I had fun with the geeks. No need for me to be such a hater! Nerds need love too.