JAN 30, 2025 | FEATURES | By Anya Jones
Let me tell you about the dearly beloved local bar in downtown Colorado Springs, Tony’s. Tony’s is known best to the Colorado College student body as the destination of a Tuesday night pilgrimage. On any given Tuesday, you are destined to walk in and find a familiar face in every corner of this bar. Whether it’s by the pool tables or in the dead center of the squarely shaped space, you will see a classmate, peer, friend or former flame. Whatever it is you are looking for, you can find it on Tony’s Tuesday.
You will not be so lucky on a random Friday at 11:00 p.m. Save the scant collection of CC students keeping to themselves at a table in the corner, you will not recognize the faces of the weekend patrons. I’ll paint you the picture as best I can. The pool tables were heavily dominated by men sporting wispy mustaches, beanies rolled up above their ears and hoodies with brand names spelled in such an edgy font it’s objectively unintelligible. They hold Coronas and miss the cue ball. Given the amount of camouflage garments you see, you might think an entire group came here from a gun show or a hunting convention.
Then, one woman walks in wearing a long black dress with lace trim, spikey piercings on every surface of her face and full glam mime makeup: white powder, black face paint, drawn eyebrows and black lipstick. In the array of tables, there are groups of girls who I can only assume made the trek from the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs. Many of them are in high-waisted jeans with no pockets and crop tops I haven’t seen since my sophomore year of high school.
One particular group of these girls catches my eye. They lean over the bar and call the bartender out by name. They probably come here every weekend. They don’t put a card down for their drinks. One of them looks exactly like Georgina Sparks from Gossip Girl, and she’s eyeing a boy who hasn’t left his seat at the bar. He is with two other guys. The boys are seated in a line, like ducks ready to be tapped into geese. While I am guessing they are old enough to be here, they don’t look particularly comfortable with that fact. Whereas these girls know the bartenders by heart and walk with a definitive purpose, the boys keep pulling their phones out horizontally which indicates some kind of iPhone game. So, when Sparks looks at one of them, it’s the most exciting thing to have happened all night.
I looked away for approximately 30 seconds before turning my attention back to the girl to find that the boy had gotten out of his seat and walked down to the end of the bar to strike up a conversation. Duck, duck, duck…goose! They must be talking for the first time.
She stands close to him, body turned inward, head cocked so far sideways it’s almost resting on her shoulder. He’s faced squarely forward, hands on the bar which he pushes off of making his body rock slightly back and forth. He turns just his head to the left to talk to her. When he speaks it’s not for very long, but she looks like she’s concentrating a bit too hard. Her laughs are awkward and forced. The boy’s friends are watching intently, which makes him nervous. He keeps eyeing them, telling them with his mind to shut the fuck up and look away as Sparks notices his attention being pulled elsewhere. I can’t hear their conversation, but it looks like it’s one of the more boring ones she’s had.
In a split second, everything changes; a new boy appears with the confidence of a tornado. He places himself directly in between the two and looks at the girl expectantly. She folds instantly. “Hi, Matthew,” I hear her say. There is that horrible moment when you are talking to a person, they are suddenly tapped on the shoulder by someone else and you are left to figure out if they will return to your conversation. This poor boy figured out a beat too late that Sparks was not coming back.
It might have even been her goal all along, this Matthew. The other boy stood there, confused and longing until he realized it would be best if he returned to his perch at the bar. Back to duck. Can you imagine the pain he must be feeling knowing he lost to someone named Matthew? Better luck next time, darling.