The best nights are always when I go out without any expectations. Last night is a perfect example. I was sitting with my roommates, Tiffany and Brittany, with a glass of wine, catching up, when one of them said, “We should go out. Just for an hour or so.”

This isn’t exactly an odd proposal for a Thursday night, but none of us were ready to go out. After a very long day, we were all in pajamas and sweat clothes with makeup-free faces and messy hair. Trust me, it was a far cry from our usual going-out ensembles. What started out as my roommate daring me to go to the bars in my rain boots and turquoise, polka-dotted pajama shorts ended up with all three of us heading out in sweats, rain boots and baseball caps. And the funny thing is, we had an absolute blast.

We could have headed to Caffrey’s or Murphy’s, but we decided on the New Yorker, 645 N. James Lovell St., instead. Maybe this decision was based on vanity or maybe we chose the New Yorker because it is less than a block from our apartment and it was drizzling outside. Either way, none of us had been there before, and we figured that it was probably pretty low-key, maybe a little skeezy, and probably devoid of anyone we actually knew. Of course, the main allure of the New Yorker was that it has karaoke. Give me a microphone and a spotlight (and maybe a disco ball), and I’m there! It’s my high school theater kid self coming out.

So around midnight, we headed out, and about 30 seconds after entering the bar, a cute boy named Hunter from around St. Louis came over and bought us a round. Tiffany looked at Brittany and me incredulously and said, “Seriously? Out of all the people here, he picks the three of us?” We were completely miffed, but received enlightenment about two hours and several rounds later. Hunter explained that he prefers girls who are casual to overdone, and his friends agreed. It was like a light bulb lit up. All this time, we were spending so much time and effort on our appearances when boys really just want a girl in a baseball cap! We aren’t sure if this is true across the board, but it’s definitely an idea we are more than willing to entertain.

The New Yorker ended up being a nice place, and definitely a place I’d recommend to Marquette students, Milwaukeeans and visitors alike. Drinks aren’t expensive. A Miller High Life is $3.50. It’s small, with about five small round tables and 10 stools around the bar, but the atmosphere is kitschy and great. The lights are low, the chairs are made of pleather, and the karaoke is delightfully off-key (especially when I’m singing.)

The patrons are also one-of-a-kind. I can’t decide which was better, running into our apartment building’s caretaker who claimed he didn’t recognize us at first because of our baseball caps or meeting the short man in the blue sweatshirt who sang Love Shack with us and ad-libbed his own slightly off-color lyrics. Or maybe it was the four friendly out-of-town boys who chatted with us all night. My only complaint is that the karaoke ended around 1:40 a.m., and I was not ready to go home. Brittany had signed us up to sing Margaritaville, but we never got the chance. Sadness.

Jogging home through the steady drizzle and giggling madly, the three of us decided that random nights like that were definitely what was missing from our senior year. We decided to spend more ridiculous, completely casual nights exploring little bars and meeting random people.

Of course, what seemed like a fabulous idea and so much fun last night was not so fab this morning. Waking up four hours after I got home in order to get to work by 7 a.m. is not my idea of a good time. So maybe next time we head out for karaoke in our PJs, I’ll make sure I don’t have an early morning the next day.