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Zoo is probably one of the most quintessentially LSE places that possibly exists. It’s tragic but in a ‘we don’t care we like finance’ kinda way and we hold it as a weekly pilgrimage that is as much a part of LSE as bashing game theory.
Zoo and I begin all our encounters with optimism. But lets be honest, the fact you have to bring a plastic bag just to put your coat away starts the night off with a sad, homeless vibe.
Yet, the optimism ensues. You try spice things up a bit, you stand up on the sofas and look out on the sea of faces pining, where are they? Where is my future spouse? Lets be honest, he’s not here love, he’s probably at an open mic night drinking red wine, singing about the great injustices of the legal system.
At the peak of desperateness you might try and chat up a member of the public in the smoking area before being dragged away by one of your better mates.
And I like that about you Zoo, you’re a team player. You bring friends together.
Don’t get me wrong, me and Zoo have had some good times. I look back on the glory days now and wonder where they went. The glory days being that one time I went in freshers and had a relatively good time.
But I like Zoo. I respect Zoo’s stamina for all things AU and R Kelly related. I respect its apparent disregard for Thursday morning lectures and moral compass in general. I respect its decision to sack off any kind of air con because that’s just who Zoo is and I like that.
Yes, we’ve had a rocky past, I’ll admit that too. Primarily when I lost my friends, my phone, my shoes and my oyster and was wandering around Leicester Square in search of some sweet, sweet solace in a world full of darkness.
But true love’s course never did run smooth. I want to believe this is something worth fighting for Zoo but all I can see is regret.
You can’t say I haven’t tried. I’ve put myself on the line for Zoo. I joined the AU, I ignored my Thursday lectures, I put green shit on my face. I know I didn’t wear a toga that one time but I care, I do.
Where did our amour go wrong Zoo?
Is it when I sober up at about 2 and realise I probably should go to those classes I’m paying £9,000 for? Or maybe it’s when I get shoved over in the smoking area by a wanker in chinos. Or is it when I’m waiting 20 minutes at the bar only to be pushed in front of by another wanker in chinos?
Maybe it’s just the wankers in chinos.
All I know for certain is, I want to love you Zoo, I really do but you just won’t let me.
However, will probably give it another go next week. Some bonds are hard to break and as a wise man once said, act like a wasteman? That’s not me.