The Blue and White investigates everything you left at the bar last weekend.

Illustration by Abigail Santner

“It’s just like an Ivy League Eugene O’Neill play,” says Tim Monaghan of the trails of lost luxuries left behind weekly by Columbia students. While bartending 9 p.m. to 5 a.m., Monday to Thursday, Monaghan witnesses students leave behind everything from keys to computers after their “weekly performances of privilege and waste” at 1020.

“They leave some really nice stuff here,” explains Monaghan. “London Fog leather jackets, umbrellas you buy at Saks Fifth Avenue, expensive jewelry, oh you name it.” He spills a beer cup of keys onto the bar. “Where are they going without these?” he asks, holding up an electric car key. “And these, these are the best,” hey says, as he pulls out a stack of credit cards accumulated since New Year’s. A ring bejeweled with a diamond rose slips into his hand when he removes the rubber band-bound wad of plastic.

One of the most recurring left-behinds is the laptop — a sure sign a Columbian was here. “They never claim them,” sighs Monaghan, “they just don’t give a shit. We just send ‘em to the Salvation Army.” If the study aids seem out of place, they are aren’t the only necessities students leave behind. Bras, panties, prescription drugs, and birth control pills found in and outside the bar’s bathrooms form a collection of forbidden fruits hinting at the more passionate side of Columbia students’ weekends.

Monaghan leads the way into the back room, a veritable vault of the most treasured props left behind: a violin, a navy jacket that he insists is the sign of “a real military man,” and a pair of tennis shoes, among others. But even those pale in comparison to the back room’s pièce de résistance: “Someone forgot a friend once,” he claims. “We were cleaning up and he was asleep in the back couch. We didn’t even see him there.”

–Sarah Camiscoli
Interview by Daniella Urrutia