Bar Review Review

Source: Benvin Lozada

Dearest gentle law student,

 What is this you ask? We are bringing back the age-old Vanguard of Democracy, a long-running column in the Virginia Law Weekly that fell to the wayside, like the beloved app Vine in 2017 but with a fresh new name: Bar Review Review. If the Bar Czar email was like a pregame, think of this as the 3 a.m. afters nobody really asked for, but you go to anyway. Just like the table behind you at Villa Diner on Sunday debriefing their weekend, we want to talk about the ~important~ things law students get up to after class. Not the hours of case readings and cite checks, but the old school networking that is happening off grounds. We thought the law school could use a little highlights reel, especially under the legendary Mark Graff’s SBA Administration that is bringing back fun and drinking in law school in a BIG way. Now that we are acquainted, you may be asking, who are we? Well that’s one secret we’ll never tell. XOXO.

This week’s social scene had the softest of launches at the Health Law Association x Med School x Darden x Law Mixer. You may not have known because the law school showing was, to put it lightly, smaller in comparison to the entirety of the M1 class (who all showed out). It is obvious why: med students would do anything for a plate of two brussels sprouts, a wing, and some fries, but who could blame them for the lack of UVA Med’s club funding. While we may not have shown up in force, we did show out in some other ways; to those whose sole purpose was to flirt—*ahem*—mix sans any interest in health law, all I can say is, “Good Luck Charlie!”

We then turn to the Class of 2027 Section F and Virg Elite members’ brainchild: “Thursday Sips.” Per Virg Elite Member George Nalbandian, “The drinks are $2 and we deserve to have fun.” If you did not know, the shiny new drinking event in town starts after Carter Sunset Series on Thursdays and ends with regret, a headache, and showing up late to the Friday class you convinced yourself to take. Seems like the 2Ls without Friday classes are basically calling this the new Nelly’s Wednesdays (fly high baby). What was once a small outing of those in the know opened commercially, much to the dismay of the “OGs,”  when 6-7 1Ls showed up this week (F.Y.I. 1Ls: The bar is called “Virg” not The Virginian. Her full name is only for when she makes her parents angry). Now that this little get together is public knowledge, a word of warning to the 2Ls incorporating this into their busy drinking schedule: If Thursday is the gateway to the three day bender, stock up now on your electrolytes of choice. The last thing you want is your Sunday catch up ruined by the nastiest hangover in your life.

One of the surprising outcomes of the week was that the Boylan Bar Review was a huge success. It had everything: a back-to-back DJ Set with DJs nobody knew, “game day” outfits ranging from courtside baddie to men wearing what they wear every weekend (get creative people), frat flicking caught on the DJ’s camera, your jersey wet with someone else’s drink, and law students getting beckoned to the DJ booth. Despite Boylan’s usual reputation to be a flop, its flop era was lowkey serving. All roads led back to Virg though, where law students closed out the night taking that last shot of Fireball they definitely did not need. Oh, if only the Virg booths could talk.

To round off the bender, those still rallying showed up to the NGSL x SBA tailgate (actually the post game to a noon game that nobody really went to) so they could get over the hangover the best way known around here—by the hair of the dog. Early birds got Cane’s while late risers were stuck with the leftover IPAs. Yet, vibes were elevated by the group with borgs (oh, to be young again), the surprising throwback and house bangers, keg stands, the games of die that few knew how to play, and the 3L in the cooler. Yeah, don’t ask.

We wish the law students a speedy recovery this weekend to run it back this week at the very anticipated LSL Hoedown. We look forward to another week of debauchery. Until then . . . signing off.