[Authorâs Note: This post was originally published under the title Blast from the Past: April 14, 2017 â although, admittedly, I didnât write this story until March 2019.
Last year, the Chemical and Biological Engineering Department of my alma mater decided to compile a departmental history book, and the chief authors put out an open invitation for alumni submissions.
Now, there are a lot of things I could [accurately] write about the Mines ChemE department. However, since most of those things are mean and/or disheartening, I chose instead to finally put down the story of my biggest coup in college.
Unfortunately, when I originally submitted this piece, I was informed that it was about six pages too long. With a heavy heart, I slashed the story to a single anemic page, and my weakened submission was accepted into the final departmental book.
The original version, though, remained dormant â but hopeful! â in the Notes app on my phone. Now, a year later, it is ready to spring upon an unsuspecting audience: you.
One final note â several of these characters should be familiar. (Although, of course, their names are changed here.) Hal appears in the concluding Authorâs Note of Blast from the Past: April 1, 2016, and Ernie is a supporting actor in Boâs First Egg Hunt.
I am not sad to be done with college, but I do miss seeing these men every day. Truly, they were the best of friends.]
On March 28, 2019, Coors Brewery started charging for admission. It was a sad day for Mines students.
For years, the free short tour (aka âCoors Labâ) was a popular destination for juniors and seniors throughout the week, and the Chemical Engineering students did not go unrepresented. Many an afternoon would find a group of us indulging in our three free pours after class â or, in the case of this tale, during class.Â
But, this isnât a story about skipping class to drink beer. Well, let me clarify â this isnât just a story about skipping class to drink beer. More importantly, itâs a story about four best friends: Hal, Ernie, Kurt, and me.Â
It was a warm spring day â April 14th, to be exact. Graduation was about a month away, and senioritis was rampant among the Class of 2017. E-Days would kick off the following Wednesday, and the constant buzz of expectant exuberance did nothing to help our focus on this Friday. The drone of chatter in the fourth-floor computer lab promised that we werenât the only distracted ChemEs that morning.
âHey, remember that weâre in here for Process Control class today,â Hal reminded us as he cleared out his email inbox.
âYay,â Kurt groaned.
âHey now, maybe itâll be fun!â I mused.
My three companions glanced at me incredulously. I couldnât help but giggle.
âUm, I think thatâs unlikely,â Kurt stated.
But, I was unwilling to back down. âNah, maybe weâll finally learn what the AMIGO method is!â I suggested.
The âapproximate M-constrained integral gain optimization methodâ is a technique by which to tune a PID controller, but none of us knew that. (Or, really, what a PID controller was, either.) The concept had been briefly mentioned in Process Dynamics and Control class the previous week, but no one was quite sure how to use this âAMIGO methodâ â or, more importantly, if we were going to be tested on it.
The boys rolled their eyes.
âNot compelling, Holly,â Hal quipped.
I rocked back in my swivel chair. âWell, I tried my best. Youâre right: itâll probably suck.â
After a pause, Ernie leaned forward conspiratorially. âYou know, it doesnât have to suck,â he began. âWe could… just ditch class and go to Coors Lab instead.âÂ
âYes,â said Kurt.
âDefinitely that one,â I agreed.
âUm,â hedged Hal.
We all looked at our fearless leader.
âCome on, Hal, donât be such a stick in the mud!â Ernie whined.
âI just canât do it,â he confessed. âI would feel too bad.â
âWait, you just admitted to thinking this class would be terrible,â I pointed out.
âWell, yes, but thatâs basically true anytime we have a âspecial sessionâ in the computer lab. Plus, itâll be super obvious if we donât go, and then how do you think Damien will feel?â
We all pondered for a second. I was pretty sure our teacher, Dr. GarcĂa, might actually be relieved if we pulled a vanishing act. While the four of us were very committed students, our overall diligence was not always reflected in the classroom. I knew that our unremitting side conversations [rightfully] frustrated our instructor.
âHeâll be happy?â I guessed in answer to the rhetorical question.
Hal stifled a laugh. Ernie and Kurt didnât stifle theirs.
âThe point,â Hal retorted, âis not whether or not he actually wants us in his class. The point is that I â personallyâ canât skip class.â
[If youâre curious, the answer is yes, Hal was always like this. A few weeks later, he won the award for âBest Person to Take Home to Momâ during the Senior Barbecue.]
Ernie spat out, âChild!â â which was his most vehement insult that semester.
Hal glared at Ernie and said, âYou wonât change my mind by being mean.â
Ernie shrugged, as if to say, It might work one of these days!
Hal continued. âLook, you guys can go without me! Iâll go to class, and you three go to Coors Lab.â
This time, the incredulous looks were directed at Hal.
âYou know we canât go without you!â I shot back.
âWhy not?â Hal seemed genuinely surprised.
âBecause we do everything together! Duh!â I rejoined. âLike, literally, all four of us went shopping for Ernieâs Career Fair shoes this year!â
We all took a second to glare at Ernie.
âYou guys have good taste…?â he mumbled.
âWhatever, Ernie,â Kurt sighed. âHollyâs right though. Itâs all or nothing, Hal. If you donât go, neither will we.â
Ernie jumped in. âOh, come on, Hal! Kurt never asks for anything! Youâre not gonna humor him this one time?â
We three delinquents plastered on identical puppy-dog expressions.
Nevertheless, Halâs resolve didnât waver. âIâm sorry! But if you guys wonât go without me, then I guess Iâll see you all in class, because Iâm not going to skip.â
Ernie and Kurt sat back in their chairs. We all knew that there was no changing Halâs mind once he made it up â although that didnât always stop us from trying.
I gave it one last go. Casting pleading eyes on my best friend, I implored, âIsnât there anything that would convince you?â
Hal sighed. âIf Damien goes to Coors Lab, then Iâll come too.â
Kurt spoke for all of us. âWell, thatâll never happen.â
As usual, the four of us met in the computer lab just before Process Control class. It was our final opportunity to persuade Hal, but none of us was optimistic about our chances. After all, our numerous texts throughout the day had fallen on seemingly deaf ears. Halâs implied response was clear: he would not be skipping class today.
By this point, Kurt and I were reconciled to our fate. Ernie, on the other hand, had a different plan.
Looking up from a stack of papers, he informed us, âIâm just gonna stay here and try to get these reports graded for Thermo Lab. Iâm extremely confident that I wonât be missing anything, since Damienâs original plans have clearly gone down the drain.â
Ernie was probably right. We had all received an email from Dr. GarcĂa alerting us to a last-minute change of plans. Rather than having a special class session in the computer lab, we would be in our usual classroom instead. This eleventh hour amendment did indeed suggest that the best-laid plans of mice and professors had gone awry.
Nevertheless, I smacked Ernieâs shoulder. âMean! Maybe he has a back-up lesson plan. And also, shame on you for skipping without us! Now weâll all know what the AMIGO method is, and you wonât.â
Kurt half-heartedly muttered, âWell, we could all skip… After all, Coors Lab is still open….â
Hal gave us a conciliatory look. âLetâs just go next week, guys.â
I scoffed, âYeah, Iâm sure it wonât be busy during E-Days.â
Hal shot an annoyed glance at me, but just then, our former Kinetics TA came running into the computer lab.
The four of us huffed out a collective sigh. This particular grad student, Rafi, was possibly the least-equipped TA we had ever encountered. His âhelpâ was frequently un-helpful, and I think he knew more about local breweries than he did about Kinetics.
Itâs possible that I was wrong about him â but, not this afternoon. Addressing one of our classmates, Rafi crowed, âDude, itâs beer time!â
This behavior normally wouldnât have bothered me. However, since I had so recently given up my own chance for a fun afternoon, I didnât want anyone else to have one, either.
âWait, he has Process with us in like five minutes!â I berated the grad student.
âUm, this is way more important than Process,â Rafi assured me. âHe needs to come help me celebrate, because I just passed my thesis proposal!â
With one accord, Ernie, Hal, Kurt and I deadpanned, âWooooo.â
I had never felt closer to my best friends than I did in that moment.
Rafi was not amused. âItâs more significant than anything any of youâve done in your lives!â he spat.
None of us were impressed. Each of us was a top-tier student whose academic skills, from what we had seen, far surpassed those of our former TA. Hal (who went on to become the E-Days Gold Pan ChemE, the AIChE ChemE of the Year, and the VIP of Field Session) shrugged and stated, âI got up this morning.â
Our former TA ignored the comment. Then, turning to our class-ditching classmate, he snapped, âCome on, letâs go.â
The pair stormed past us and out into the hall.
âMan, he really gets my goat,â I muttered.
Hal grunted. âWell, not every grad student is like that. Ok, are we all ready?â
Ernie patted the stack of lab reports and quipped, âYep! Got everything I need to stay right here.â
Kurt sighed. âI swear, Ernie, sometimes I donât know why weâre friends with you.â
We left Ernie to his grading and walked downstairs. I nervously glanced at Kurt and Hal as I grasped the door handle.
What if weâre the only ones in the class? And what if he doesnât have a back-up lesson plan? I worried.
As the three of us filed into Alderson Hall Room 340, my fears were partially confirmed. The classroom was desolate. Maybe a third of the 60+ enrolled students had shown up, and Dr. GarcĂa was nowhere to be seen.
We claimed our usual seats, then watched as our professor slipped through the door and shuffled into the room. I had never seen him look so dejected. With shoulders slumped and head hanging low, he was quite the portrait of despair.
Resignedly, our teacher turned to the class and mumbled, âOk, well I had a really great lesson planned for today, but I discovered very belatedly that the computers are not yet equipped with the software that we will need.â
It seemed that our teacherâs Colombian accent always became more pronounced whenever he was upset, and this was no exception. I am sure that I was not the only student who felt a pang of sympathy for our instructor that afternoon.
Dr. GarcĂa continued, âSo, I suppose that Iâll just figure out something that we can discuss today… If nothing else, we can just review what we studied on Wednesday.â
So I guess there *isnât* a back-up lesson plan, I surmised.Â
The professor turned to the board and began to aimlessly sketch out a few system responses. His stance positively radiated defeat.
Oh gosh, this is worse for him than it is for us, I realized. Poor guy!
âStill happy we came to class?â Kurt whispered.
Hal didnât respond, but Iâm pretty sure he was thinking, What Damien needs is an ice-cold beer!
Suddenly, I recalled Halâs words from earlier. If Damien goes to Coors Lab, then Iâll come too. Maybe this afternoon could still improve for us â and our teacher!Â
I quickly devised a foolproof plan â Step 1: convince Dr. GarcĂa to cancel class and go to Coors with us, and Step 2: … well, you know, there actually wasnât a Step 2 â although that didnât stop me from commencing Step 1.
As usual, I started speaking before waiting to be called on. âDr. GarcĂa?â
The professor slowly turned around and sighed, âYes, Holly?â
Here was my moment. If this was going to work, I had to play it cool â ease into the notion, really let Dr. GarcĂa think it was *his* idea in the first place. In a word, I had to be subtle. So I said…Â
âHave you ever been to Coors Lab?â
Subtlety has never been a strength of mine.
Unsurprisingly, our professor was quite taken aback. âCoors… Lab? A lab in the new building?â (At this point in time, the CoorsTek Center for Applied Science and Engineering was still in the early stages of construction.)
âUm… no, itâs not exactly a lab, per se. Actually, Iâm not entirely sure why we call it that,â I admitted.
Next to me, Kurt was cowering behind Hal, who in turn had sunk so low in his desk that only his shoulders and head could be seen.
âWhat are you doing?â the latter hissed.
I smiled and blithely continued on. âSo, itâs actually Coors beer, not CoorsTek, that Iâm talking about. Have you ever done the brewery tour?âÂ
Our teacher looked mildly ashamed. âUm, no… but I plan on doing it eventually, you know. Maybe once school gets out.â
I realized that I had inadvertently pointed out what might have been seen as a shortcoming, so I was quick to assure my professor. âOh, donât worry, I havenât actually done it either. I was, um, yeah, I was actually talking more about the short tour. Itâs where you skip the tour and just drink beer. Thatâs what we call âCoors Labâ.â
A wave of quickly-suppressed laughter rippled across the classroom. I sensed dozens of staring eyes in my peripheral, but at this point, there was really no backing down. Dr. GarcĂa peered at me expectantly, as if to ask, Where are you going with this?
And so, artlessly, I stammered, âSo, I was thinking â well, I mean obviously youâre super bummed that you had to cancel class in the computer lab â and of course, weâre all sad too, right? â but what I was thinking was, what if you just canceled class⌠and we all went to Coors Lab instead?âÂ
I heard the thud of Halâs forehead as it hit his desk. My peripheral now revealed gaping jaws as well as staring eyes.
Amazingly, Dr. GarcĂa seemed to be considering my proposal. âSo youâre saying that we stop class now, and go buy beer instead?â he queried.
âOh, no, the beer is actually free!â I clarified. Then, gesturing to the mostly-empty classroom, I tactlessly added, âPlus, basically everyone has already skipped class. Donât you want to reward us faithful students for being here today?â
Dr. GarcĂaâs quirked eyebrow suggested that my statement was a bit gauche. I was doing a poor job of articulating my case, but fervently hoped that my enthusiasm would atone for my lack of social acuity.
âWell.âŚâ he stalled, attempting to smother a smile with little success. It wasnât the first time we had bantered in class, but he didnât usually enjoy it quite so much.Â
I met Halâs panicked gaze. This was your idea, I mouthed.
His head dropped to the desk once more.
At the front of the classroom, Dr. GarcĂa appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Fixing a mock-stern look on his face, he slowly began, âI donât know….â
This was the moment of decision â where he would determine whether or not my plea had been sufficiently convincing. But, I still had one more card to play: a maneuver I concocted that very second.Â
âOh! And one more thing â if we all go right now, then we wonât be going as teacher and students: weâll be going as friends!â
And then, with a dramatic pause and a theatrical flourish, I concluded, âItâs called â THE AMIGO METHOD!â
And that was the moment I knew my rash gambit had worked.
My professorâs faux scowl melted into an unrestrained grin. My two dozen classmates alternately stared in shock or roared with laughter. My impertinence and panache had long been a source of tension between me and my peers â but for once, everyone seemed to approve of my audacity⌠now that it had worked. Even Hal and Kurt smiled at me, although both still shook their heads in feigned disgust.Â
âWow. You just donât give up,â Hal muttered.Â
âItâs because I love you!â I replied sweetly.Â
Dr. GarcĂa was still chuckling as the noise level returned to a normal register. Resuming our conversation, he queried, âSo how are we going to organize this logistically?â
âWeâll all carpool!â I announced brightly. âYouâre going to ride in Halâs car, and weâll all meet down there and walk in together.â
(After all, he couldnât ride in my car. Iâm a terrible driver.)
The professor looked at my friend. âIs that ok?â
âSure!â Hal agreed amiably.
âAlright! I will see you all at Coors Lab!â Dr. GarcĂa proclaimed to the class.
And that is exactly what happened.
I immediately ran up to the computer lab.
âErnie! I did it! Weâre all going to Coors Lab!â I breathlessly reported.
âYou convinced Hal to skip ââ <glancing at the time> ââ five minutes into class?â
âNo!â I crowed in triumph. âI convinced Damien to skip five minutes into class!â
Ernie looked at me in astonishment â which was a gratifying treat, since very little surprises him. âReally?â he asked incredulously.Â
âYes! Hal was like, âIâll go if Damien goes,â so obviously my only option was to convince Damien to go! You shouldâve been there â he actually looked so excited to have something to do and people to do it with. Iâm really pumped.â
Ernie shook his head in wonder. âDang, Holly, thatâs it. Youâve peaked. Your life is all downhill from here.â
[Authorâs Note: Ernieâs statement had proven a little on-the-nose.]
I scowled in response. âOh, shut up. You have to go now if you want to ride with Hal. Heâs parked in his usual spot.â
Ernie gathered up his papers and stuffed them unceremoniously into his backpack. âSweet! Are you coming with us?â
I shook my head. âNah, Art just texted and asked if he could ride with me, and we canât all six of us fit in Halâs car.â
âWell, not legally, anyway,â Ernie muttered under his breath.
We raced down the stairs of Alderson and out into the luxurious sunshine.
âOk, weâll see you guys there!â I called as Ernie started toward the CTLM parking lot.
[Authorâs Note: In the intervening years, this parking lot has become yet another building.]
Ernie flashed me a thumbs-up in response.Â
I turned to see my long-time friend Art waiting for me on the lawn. âHey, thanks for the ride,â he greeted me.Â
âWell, donât thank me until we get there alive,â I warned.Â
Thankfully, we made it to the Coors parking lot without incident. After nabbing one of the remaining open slots, we spotted my best friends and Dr. GarcĂa walking toward the brewery entrance.
Art and I caught up with the quartet just as they entered the Coors building, where we subsequently waited in line for about twenty minutes. Most of our other classmates joined us within that time period, and we all took the required goofy Coors picture. (Alas â it is a photo of which I do not have possession.)
The gaggle of us flashed our IDs and received our wristbands, then shepherded our teacher to the Coors Hospitality Lounge.
âOk, so now weâll get in line for beer,â Ernie explained. The professor followed my friends into the queue, and they were joined by the rest of our classmates.
âIâll go grab tables!â I called to their retreating forms.
(Oh yeah â I guess it bears mentioning that, despite my frequent trips to Coors Lab⌠I donât drink beer.)
One by one, my peers congregated at the cluster of high-top tables I had claimed, and as we watched, a fascinating phenomenon occurred. Dr. GarcĂaâs stern, professorial facade started to melt away, and seemingly for the first time, we got to see him as a real person.
I listened to our instructor chat freely with my peers about his time at Texas A&M, his preference for liquor versus beer, and his beloved wife, who was still in Chicago as she finished up her PhD. That Friday, the man before us wasnât Dr. GarcĂa, our professor; rather, he was simply Damien, a fellow engineer and Oredigger.
The afternoon had somehow transformed from a lackluster day of class into an unforgettable experience for my classmates and me â and seemingly, for our teacher, too. As the party broke up and we each returned to our own lives, I was once again joined by my three best friends.Â
Sidling up beside me, Ernie spoke for all of us when he concluded, âWell, I guess we learned what the AMIGO method is after all!â
Aww, this really makes me miss ChemE. I would give anything to go to Coors Lab with a bunch of classmates right now!
Right!? Even if it *does* cost $5 now!