Last Hurrah

Finals begin on my birthday this year. Kind of like 2005, the year I turned 21.

Yeah, no one wanted to go out and play that night, either. (Thanks, awesome people who still came out to Anna Liffey's!)

With two weeks of class to go before the fun of finals is upon us (Again? I thought that was some sort of a sick prank pulled on first-semester 1Ls, kind of like the VMI Ratline...), it was nice to have a bright spot to look forward to today: Justice Scalia came for a lecture and a book signing.

I attended the lecture this afternoon--well, technically, I was in the CCTV room, watching the screen, laughing a bit too hard at the jokes, and playing the "Have We Covered This Case in Con Law?" game. As soon as his remarks were concluded, I grabbed my copy of Making Your Case and joined the stampede toward the auditorium, where those fortunate enough to have been able to sneak out of class and get tickets had seen Scalia in person.

As I was standing in the book-signing line, several thoughts went through my mind:
1) Wow, this line is long.
2) I hope no one notices my FitFlops. At least I'm wearing the nice pants and button-down.
3) Wait, that guy's in shorts. Okay, the shoes are fine.
4) Still glad I didn't wear the Vibrams today.
5) Man, I wish I had read this book before the brief and oral argument.
6) That guy has a wire coming out of his ear.
7) Oh look, another wire guy. And some cops. Yep, the security detail's all here.
8) And the security guys won't make eye contact or smile. Good to know.
9) What, exactly, does one say to Justice Scalia without sounding like an idiot? "You're my favorite" sounds more than a little trite. And creepy.
10) No, "I liked your dissent in Grutter" is also right out.

The line continued to snake toward the table, and the girls behind me and I decided that the second title page was the correct one for signing--as one of them noted, his name was on the page. Made sense.

Finally, my turn arrived. I smiled and said thank you. I slid my book across the table.

He looked up briefly, looked down at the page, sighed, "This page," and turned to the other title page.

I mumbled, "Yes, sir."

He signed it and slid it back across the table, said, "You're welcome," and I darted out of there before I could ask why the abortion cases were so darn convoluted.

And now that the visit is behind us, it's time to move on to more pressing matters, like my Con Law outline. One page, front and back, 8.5x11 or A4. It's going to be epic.