#SCBDReflection: Oktoberfest at Bottle Hill Pub

633895436145193925_2353I attend a relatively small private university in northern New Jersey, Fairleigh Dickinson University (FDU). I live on the college at Florham Madison campus. There are nights that I don’t want to drive or take the train outside of campus to Morristown, just to enjoy a bar. The most realistic way of celebrating the fact that I’m now a twenty-one-year-old senior in college is to go straight to the student center on campus and have a drink at the Bottle Hill Pub with The Banker and Not The Pianist.

2012022811362161Given that I’ve passed by the pub in the student center for the past three years on various pub nights, I knew what my expectations were supposed to be. This wasn’t Iron Bar or Dark Horse in Morristown. This FDU’S campus. Having a few beers with The Banker and Not The Pianist on a Wednesday night before all three of us had a class on Thursday morning, was a fair proposition for an excuse to attend Oktoberfest at Bottle Hill. There was no obvious decor to indicate that it was Oktoberfest beyond flashcard-size paper, German flags at the bar, printed out with fun facts about Germany and Bavarian culture. However, there were free pretzels, and you can never turn down free food.

photo 2There is new furniture in the pub as compared to the way it was last semester. Now the furniture is bright, bold, and contemporary. The furniture has been likened to a McDonald’s PlayPlace. I find it to be an upgrade from last year’s high-top, all-blue plastic chairs that showed no variety whatsoever. Now, the furniture is an array of shades of blue, orange, and green.

photo 1The crowd at Bottle Hill reminded me of a neighborhood bar, where everyone knows each other because it’s such a tightknit community. There is no inappropriate, sweaty grinding at 10 PM on a Wednesday. Instead, there you can find your peers singing 1990s nostalgic karaoke hits. As I’m finishing up my senior year and growing as both an academic and a career woman, I find that the sweaty nights of dancing in clubs with strangers, strobe lights, and fog machines are not as fun as I pictured them to be as a young, freshman girl. Now, I find that sitting next to a few friends, talking about your hopes, fears, and aspirations, and asking the bartender you have an elective with to pour you another Yuengling is less expensive and more satisfying. Cheers!








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