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Daily Nebraskan
Thursday, February 19, 1987
INVITE EV3IDWEST SOUND
TO YOUR NEXT PARTY
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Rentals of sound
cwctomc onrl
QtX lighting effects
'j odica emu sei vioc
V Sound & Lighten g
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2324 "O"
Refinished Furniture
Overhauled Appliances
Winter Clothing
Shoes and Boots
Bric-Brac
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Wearing Apparel
s5bag
(bag provided)
Feb. 21st ONLY
OPEN
9:00-5:00 PM
Mon.-Sat.
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Main-8th & P
6030 Havelock Ave.
1425 South Street
1126 No. 27th
1014 Central Ave., Nebraska City
A-., ATTENTION. -A,
MALE DANCERS
:- v' ' Always a Sellout
PETER McCUES Lounge
Above Sweep Left 81 5 "O" St.
ALL MALE REVUE
1 Night Only Sat., February 21
Reservations Only-Call 474-1521
ALSO Live Music
"THOSE GUYS"
APPEARING THURS.-SAT.
SWEEP LEFT 815 "O" St.
THURS., $2.50 Pitchers All Night
FRIDAY F.A.C. 4:30-7:30
DRINK SPECIALS
FEMALE DANCERS MON.-FRI.
5:30-10:30 PETER McCUES
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HIVATE LIVES
Coward's
isticated comedy
manners
February 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18,
19, 20, 21, 1987 at 8 PM
Howell Theatre "
At Brittany's, with the law
By Charles Lieurance
Diversions .
. ' 'The first thing we do, let 's kill
all the lawyers. "
II Henry VI, Shakespeare
It is late winter and the lawyers are
out. Friday afternoon, they're having
their BMW's parked, they're looking at
their pocket watches, they're loosening
the brass buckles on their silk-lined
their arms, hanging their long coats on
the hooks at Brittany's - where the
lawyers go to unwind, relax and net
work. It's happy hour and there's nothing
in the world happier than a happy
attorney.
Makingjokes: "Why don't sharks
bite lawyers?"
"Why?"
"Professional courtesy ..."
The lawyers and those who make
their living on the periphery of the
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I 2 HAIRCUTS FOR
I THE PRICE OF ONE I
! $13 !
J Bring a friend and experience
I the difference of a Phoenix J
1 Haircut at half price. I
I PERS I
I Reg. $40 NOW I
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Good wTerry, Bob or Pattt thru I
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3810 Normal Blvd.
483-4726
Sebastian Artistic Center
Open Evenings Until
9:30 PM Mon.-Sat.
legal system (secretaries, court repor
ters, stenographers...) are packed into
Brittany's . . . Brooks Brothers as far as
the eye can see, weaving in and out of
Brittany's Victorian elegance, whisper
ing behind frosted glass and then
bursting into laughter, leaning on large
oak pillars, sitting in castellated booths.
They're everywhere.
The judge bangs his mug on the bar
like a gavel. Motion sustained. A cou
ple of lawyers, one of each sex, motion
to dismiss.
I'm standing in a far corner. I have
an outstanding warrant out for my
arrest for non-payment of a failure to
disperse fine. Brittany's is no place for
a wanted man. The thought crosses my
mind that since the place is so packed
it might be easy to pick one of the
attorney's pockets and make enough to
pay my fine. The thought quickly passes.
I put on my dark glasses to go for
another beer at the bar.
Somebody asks me: "Do you know
why ..."
"Professional courtesy, " I ans
wer. The guy looks at me funny. He stuffs
some popcorn in his mouth and turns
his face into his mug of beer, mumbling
out the side of his mouth: "Don't look
like a lawyer ..."
I sneak back to the corner. Some guy
in cowboy boots drinking a bourbon
has taken my corner. I veer off to
another one. A waitress who can ob
viously smell I'm not a lawyer, asks me
if I need anything from the menu I've
had tucked under my arm since I came
in.
"Shrimp in the shell . . ." She raises
an eyebrow: "No shark on the menu." I
shrug. She obviously hadn't heard the
joke. Mostly I think she just wanted the
menu back.
From my new corner I can actually
see into some of the booths. The booths
are nicer than some people's homes.
The sandwiches being devoured are
gorgeous, spilling over with condiments,
meat rolled neatly on top of cheese,
exotic buns.
I see a frustrated waitress wander
ing around aimlessly with a shrimp
plate. She finally notices I'm back in
my corner where I belong and heads for
me.
"I thought maybe you'd found a
seat," she said depositing the plate in
my hands.
"Is there one?"
She looks around desperately.
"Doesn't look like it yet but I'll keep an
an eye out."
"Thanks."
The shrimp is great like most shrimp.
There are too few but then again there
are always too few.
The talk is getting loud and when
lawyers laugh they really laugh, all the
way from their guts, a warbling roar of
indefatigable drunken joviality.
I begin to get the feeling I often get
when in the company of people I envy,
abhorand just can't figure out, that I'm
standing on the lunar surface and my
space capsule has taken off without
me.
On my way out I meet my friend from
the bar still with his mouth full of
popcorn.
"Why don't pit bulls bite lawyers?" I
ask him.
He shakes his head dubiously:
"That's not funny."
"No, friend, it's not," I say.
I get a sudden urge to turn myself in
to the police here and now, but it
passes.