Watering hole woes

I like a good bar.

I never really got a chance to experience going to bars when I turned 19, as it was just before Covid thrust the world into a global lockdown. Now at 21 years old and with the pandemic hopefully behind us, I’ve been catching up. 

I’ve got a few favourite spots that I like to go to, but there is one thing they all have in common: most are off campus. Not only that, but they are damn pricey. 

Now, this isn’t a piece lamenting inflation or corporate profiteering—that’s for someone else to write. This article asks the simple question: why doesn’t UofT have more college-operated bars? 

Really, think about it. Why doesn’t the university set up its own interconnected system of college bars? It seems like a net win to me no matter how you look at it. UofT’s student body and, by extension, the university itself, craves community. It’s what pays the bills—not only in academic reputation but also the university’s willingness to connect people in a support network. Bars, in my opinion, help provide that connection by creating a space of equality where people can meet and have a good time. 

You might be asking: “James, doesn’t UofT provide spaces for students to connect, like libraries, lounges, and student clubs? Why the hell would they spend the cash on a campus bar?”

My answer to that question is simple: atmosphere. 

No, I’m not talking about mood lighting or what kind of scented candle is being used this week. I’m talking about the underlying feel of the place. Bars have a different atmosphere than libraries, student lounges, or even student clubs. Libraries, for example, want you to silo your academic suffering in the stacks, keeping your head down with your study group as you grind out some hellish econ assignment. That doesn’t provide a place to really vent or let loose. Even though lounges provide an air of more relaxed camaraderie, they too still restrict you as some people might be using the space to study or decompress. There’s nothing wrong with that, but sometimes you need a spot to blow off steam. 

Bars have that. They have an implicit catharsis of wanting to escape the daily academic grind, whether you are drinking or not. It creates the means for students to finally release pent-up feelings of academic frustration in an environment where they won’t be judged too harshly. Not only that, but that act of collective venting creates some fairly strong bonds. One of the best feelings in the world, in my humble opinion, is finding someone to vent about the same thing with. 

This helps create the community that the university—both the student body and academic body—wants, but can also help monetarily. If the university opens up student bars, it stands to make a good amount of money. Think about it. If you are offering alcohol or beverages at a lower price than the local bars, you’ll have students flocking to those spots. You can then pocket that money and use it to fund other initiatives on campus (say, a better mental health network).  

What spawned this article is the simple fact that The Cat’s Eye, Victoria College’s student lounge, announced through Instagram that they will be hosting a pub night within their walls. I was lucky to sign up for it as soon as the post was released and I encouraged my friends to do so as well. 

The event was full within literal minutes. 

That alone should tell you that students, at least at Vic, want to bring bars back to campus. If there is that much turnout for a pub night on campus, think about how glorious it would be if there were bars on campus. 

I am incredibly hopeful that The Cat’s Eye returning to its roots (hopefully permanently) will make the university consider opening more bars across campus. I truly think that it can help facilitate connections and help all of us fight our academic demons.