"Taking the Bar is Fun"

    Let me begin by letting all of you in on a little secret. Life beyond law school is not nearly as glamorous as it seems.  Sure, I drive a Mercedes now and can afford to order call drinks instead of whatever is on special, but I also have a harder time introducing myself at parties. No longer am I the out-to-do-good-struggling-law-student; no, now I'm the why-didn't-he-pay-for-this-round-sell-out-attorney. "A Lawyer," they often say. "You must be an asshole."
    But once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Before you can experience such pleasantries, you must first go through the wonderful process of taking the Maryland Bar Exam (which I hear, is now longer and more fun than ever). For those of you who have purposefully remained ignorant, studying for the bar entails more than just collecting free highlighters from BarBri. You actually have to go to bar class. Like everyday. And there's homework. Like everyday.
    People who knew me in law school used to always remark how relaxed I seemed. Even during finals, I would calmly stroll through the halls, make jokes, and project a pleasant sense of gaiety. However, the bar was a different matter. There's no As or Bs or Cs. There's simply pass or fail. Win or go home. And then, here's the really fun part: if you fail, your job may decide that you weren't worth it after all and just let you go.
    That was the particular situation I was in. Unlike some of my friends who took jobs with large firms (which all have unspoken policies of allowing you one retry if you fail the first time), I took a job with a smaller firm, who, in the history of the firm, had only once before extended an offer to someone who was still in law school. "You're going to pass, right?" they would say, always only half-jokingly.
    Also, the worst part about studying for the bar isn't the difficultly of the material (which is super hard), but rather it is the sheer monstrous amount of stuff you have to learn. When my roommate and I went to pick our bar study books from BarBri, we debated whether to walk or drive. We drove. And this was a good thing, as our combined bar books filled up my entire trunk.
    And of course, just to be extra cruel, this entire process takes place during the beginning of summer. The Orioles still have a fighting chance, the Inner Harbor seems less polluted, heroin seems like less of a city-wide problem, and you have to force yourself to spend 4-8 hours everyday with your bar books. Your bar books become that teddy bear you had when you were two, you bring them with you wherever you go. One of my most distinct bar study memories involved four law school friends and I watching the World Cup semi-finals together, all with bar books open on our laps.
    But there are perks. For instance, you get to spend a lot of time coffee shops. A lot of time. So much time, that the waitresses all know your name and know that you won’t be wanting a check any time soon. You sit there so long that you know when it's time for shift changes. Also, past bad habits suddenly become acceptable again. The student who gave you a dirty look for smoking outside the law school first year is now bumming cigarettes off you.
    But back to the stress. That was really the worst part. I had so much trouble sleeping, that I was forced to invent my own special bar study sleep remedy -- which was created by mixing two parts Xanax with one part Nyquil. Followed by a Redbull in the morning. But we all got through it. We didn't think we would, but we did. You study and study and study and then one day you wake up and realize that you don't have to study anymore because the last day of the bar was yesterday. You don't know where your pants are, and you're not sure who's house you're in, because you went straight from the bar to a real bar and got obliterated, but you don't have to study. And that's a really, really good day.