Do you remember those days, those nights, and those sticky floors?
Dear Reggie’s,
I don’t throw around the word love a lot. Especially not in reference to a bar. I mean, sure, you can love people and animals and things—but can you ever actually love a campus watering hole?
Well, Reggie’s, I’m here to say that yes, you can. I often say it to everyone, enthusiastically, my eyes glimmering with glee: “guys,” I say, “I totally, literally love Reggie’s.” And I’m not ashamed who knows it.
I mean, we’ve had some good memories, you and I. Do you remember that time I came to see you, right after my first-ever final at Concordia? I do. I remember the seven vodka shots like they were yesterday. Mostly because even today, three years later, whenever I catch a whiff of vodka, I feel a little sick to my stomach… but that’s hardly your fault. Do you remember Valentine’s Day, before you closed? Oh man. We had so much fun.
There are other memories, too: birthdays, game nights, and Thirsty Thursdays. Even though some people thought you were a little dingy, a little ratchet, well, I didn’t care. I never did. Sure, your booths were a tad uncomfortable and your bathrooms could have used some improvement. But we fit together anyway, you and I.
Reggie’s, I think what I’m trying to say with this letter is that I miss you. We all miss you. I know that we shared some special memories, but I also know that you’ve been a source of happiness for countless other people, too. And I’m okay with that. That’s part of the reason why I love you so much—why we love you so much.
You were a great spot for fostering a sense of community among us Concordia students. Like a comforting best friend, you were always there to offer a familiar face, a good drink, and dim lighting. Many of us have come and gone from the mezzanine of the Hall building. But like so many of the beer bellies that were so lovingly cultivated in those cramped booths, you will always remain.
So please, Reggie’s, come back to us soon. We miss you. Stop making me go to McKibbin’s for Ladies’ Night. My liver can’t handle it anymore. And my soul just isn’t in it like it used to be.
Enthusiastically awaiting your reopening,
Miranda
