Not Ready for Prime Time

(And no, I'm not talking about Sarah Palin.)

I'll kick off today's diatribe with a confession.

I didn't watch either the nail-Harper-to-the-wallfest last night OR the Biden-Palin train wreck (that by most accounts wasn't). 

I meant to pay some attention to both of them. History told me I wouldn't stomach the Canadian "debate" for long--our political "debates" are basically an hour of pointless yelling and bickering that gets right tiring, right quick. The best performance I've seen north of 49 was Mike Harris, our erstwhile provincial leader, in his first go-round. He basically ignored the opposition's taunts and accusations and explained his platform calmly and concisely. I'd suggest most Ontarians liked that approach, because Harris won in a landslide. 

Anyway, I was mostly interested in how Elizabeth May would hold up, but I was going to check in on Biden-Palin as well. That went out the window when I saw that both debates were scheduled to start at 9 P.M. ET.

Some of us get up early, you know.

I first noticed this phenomenon of 'prime time creep' back in first year university. It never failed to amaze me that people were starting their night's revelries at 10:00, 11:00 or even later. They'd zombie in around three in the morning, taking care to make as much noise as zombifically possible, maybe stopping outside my dorm room door for a quick game of lacrosse or a few rounds of projectile vomiting, and this would happen three times a week for months on end. Shellshocked and bone-tired after the first week of this, I asked people why they didn't go out earlier. At first all I got were a bunch of pitying looks, the kind that say if you have to ask the question, buddy, you ain't never gonna understand the answer. 

I persisted. 

"Come on, guys. Last call's at two in the morning, right? Instead of three hours of drinking, you could get five or six in. You could party for five or six hours."

"Yeah, but we only have enough money for three hours of booze". Three times a week, I added silently. If you only went out twice a week, there's an extra hour and a half each night. And I might get some god-damned SLEEP of a Thursday night.

I thought about calling bullshit on that--I'd seen the brand new stereo systems and noted that nobody but nobody cooked in our dorm kitchen, ever. Money obviously wasn't the issue to these people. But then I'd be a hypocrite, because I was hemorrhaging money at the rate of about thirty bucks a day. I just chose not to waste it on alcohol. Otherwise I was no different from the rest of Mac 2 West. 

"Okay, but why not start those three hours at 8 or 9? Some of us have 8:30 classes, you know."

I was quickly led to understand that my 8:30 classes were my problem. It became clear that people had chosen their classes and arranged their schedules specifically so that they could party into the wee hours. This, like so much of my university experience, had simply never occurred to me beforehand. Why would it? The wee hours were for sleeping. Back in high school, I'd been in several bands and a choir, all of which held practice at 7:30 a.m. Going to bed relatively early was a habit of long standing with me.

I had worked some night shifts--weekends only, I hasten to add--in my final year of high school and it dawned on me halfway through first year university that if I was going to have to be awake at ungodly hours, I might as well be paid to be awake. Thus the lark shape-shifted gradually and reluctantly into an owl: one reason among a great many that my studies began to swirl around the drain. Eventually I flushed myself out completely...feeling a vast relief at being out of the toilet, but still feeling like shit. 

The reason nobody went out at seven or eight at night was because nobody went out at seven or eight at night. You could avoid a cover charge by hitting the bars before nine, but that was just so lame. Who wants to drink alone for free? Only an alkie would find that attractive. If you drink until you lose control of your bodily functions, but you do it in the presence of a whole bunch of friends, you're not an alcoholic, right?

Yeah. I fit into university life like a cockroach on a wedding cake.

They've got quiet dorms now, I understand. Actually, I saw this at my then-girlfriend's college that year, and wished with all my heart that my university would get with that program. It's possible that if I'd been in a quiet dorm, I might have finished my degree. Maybe.

Back to primetime: Television has exhibited this same primetime creep over the years. Look at a TV guide, if you can still find a print edition of one. Primetime starts at 8:00. It used to be 7 and I bet sooner or later it's going to be 9. Nearly every show that society deems worth watching airs at 9 or later, anyway. I don't know how people stay up so late night after night. Even with coffee to kickstart the mornings.

If I wasn't so lazy, I think I'd make a great farmer. The prospect of getting up before sunrise doesn't faze me in the least, and once the sun sets, I'm ready to set myself. It's but one more way I'm square peg trying to fit in this round world.