LY #42 The Utah Party

Today I received my annual invitation to the Utah party at the National Communication Association convention.  I used to love these parties at both the national convention and the Western States Communication Association convention.  There was almost always good food at the Utah parties and plenty of alcohol.  (I think that the department was often trying to override people's opinions about a largely "dry" state.)

When I was a graduate student, the tradition at one of the Utah parties was to have us grads pouring "champagne" for those attending.  Cheap "champagne" (but not Utah champagne, if there is such a thing.)   The lead party-maker in the department, who we'll call Dr. A., used to sneak champagne and then hard alcohol into the hotel for student minions to pour for party attendees.  My spouse has fond memories of running into Dr. A. on the streets of some city (New Orleans, I think, or perhaps Seattle) with a box of liquor in his arms.

"Shhhh," he said, and laughed.

 I noticed that the practice of sidestepping certain rules ended some years ago and now those with invitations get a ticket for one free drink at hotel-catered parties.

But back in the day what I enjoyed about pouring champagne for my betters was the feeling of being one of a crew, like a theatrical company.  It felt like I was truly being made to serve the department when I did an activity so not-part-of-the-job-description.  It was part of the hazing ritual that is graduate school.

This year the convention is in Washington, D. C.  in late November.  I'll not be attending this one, or any in the future.  I do, however, plan to attend the next WSCA in Anaheim and go to one last Utah party before I retire.   Utah is a large presence at the regional conventions which are usually held in February.  I remember one party with snow blowing outside onto the party room's balcony.  I got into my goofball state of mind and decided that what some of the younger stuffed shirts then serving the department needed was snow on their necks.

Yeah...I know.  Uncool, man, uncool.    But not as uncool as the time I showed up at the Utah breakfast, a recruitment tool to bring in new graduate students.  I showed up a year or two after getting my PhD, sat down with a young professor who had been hired at the school after I'd left the program, and asked him about what Utah had to offer.  He took several minutes to give me the spiel, all while a senior faculty member was as amused as I was over my jest.  Once the younger prof caught on that I didn't need to hear the sales pitch, he was very annoyed and for years after would bring up my "cruel" joke whenever  we met at conventions.

I guess there's just something in me that doesn't take academia all that seriously, even though I'm part of it.