A Not-So Special Feature.

Because my job consumes approximately 50% of my day, fresh ideas have evaporated for me. Such is the fragility of my imagination, creativity and/or originality. Therefore, I will be posting snippets of my senior thesis for the next week or so. I haven’t looked at this thing since I presented it all the way back in December of 2002. So, um, enjoy?

From the Introduction:

“You are about to read my recorded observations of O'Kearney's Fun House. The club itself will be described in detail in the pages that follow. This introduction is intended to outline the philosophy behind my research project.

My goals were to explore the interrelationship of nonverbal communications and friendships, specifically how nonverbal behavior directed towards an outside party impacted the friendship. I was, and still am, intrigued by this concept of friends influencing each other in courtship rituals…

In order to get the best perspective on the complexities of nonverbal behaviors, I let ethnomethodology be my guide for this study. John Van Maanen, a fellow ethnographer, writes, "When used as a method, ethnography typically refers to fieldwork (alternatively, participant-observation) conducted by a single investigator
who 'lives with and lives like' those who are studied..." (The Social Science Encyclopedia, 2nd Ed., 263-265).”


Later…


“People continued to approach O’Kearney’s from all sides of the street. Some walked up from the east, others from the north parking lot. Others emerged from taxicabs that pulled up in front of the place. They all approached with smiles and confidence, like they were coming home or some place familiar to them. Trepidation only resided within the heart of the observer standing in line, attempting to gain entry into the Funhouse. I became overwhelmed at the sight of so many people whose energy felt boundless and whose physical appearances were geared towards impressing other people. I could not help but feel like an outsider. I did not choose to come to O’Kearney’s dressed to impress, therefore, I worried about standing out in an unflattering sort of way. Would people staring at me because of the clothes I wore hamper my observations of this club and its patronage? I had opted to wear jeans and tennis shoes with a plaid collared shirt underneath a tan denim coat (for those who might be curious).

Once I had reached the front of the line and passed through the door, I became concerned that I had violated the dress code, because the bouncer stared at me while I handed him my driver’s license. The tall, lanky, pony-tailed man, whose most memorable facial feature was his nose, shined a flashlight underneath my license to look for the reflective coding to insure that it was not a fake. From the other side of the doorway, another bouncer commented, “Yeah, check that f*cker’s ID.” My clothes were not at issue. My age was. More importantly, the bouncers implied that I was attempting to enter O’Kearney’s with a fake ID. With my card inspected carefully and my appearance scrutinized, the bouncer finally let me pass into the bar with a “Here you go,” as he handed back my driver’s license. My entire body relaxed as I moved across the green carpeting towards the dance floor—I was finally inside O’Kearney’s.”

Will Bryan pull a phone number? Will his observations be socially relevant?...

Are they ever?