Morgantown, W.Va.: Here's the Party

A quick word about the rankings. Princeton Review is the source, and they're based on student responses to survey questions. They're asked about time spent studying, beer drinking, drug consuming, participation in Greek life. (Did Lara Win the Tiara, by the way? The banner hanging on the front of her house sealed my vote.)

The Mountaineers nabbed the top spot this year, as they did in 1997. So here I am, in Morgantown on a Thursday in October, sent to find out why.

Three and a half hours after leaving the District, we're in the heart of town and surrounded by sweats.

"I do like a good pair of sweat pants," Sara says, and I agree, as we drive around lost and distracted by the streams of students filling the sidewalks. Baggy sweat pants, snug ones. Navy sweat shirts, yellow, gray, green. And it's cold out, the type of day you might want to wear sweats if you thought about it, but -- let's be honest -- you would never think about it.

Morgantown is a hilly little city, with winding streets that all seem to land in a business district that probably doesn't look much different than it did in 1957. There are old brick-faced banks and law firms, and a multitude of places to pick up some sweats, or a deck of "Morgantown Party Girl" playing cards.

For $99, we get ourselves a room at the Clarion Hotel Morgan. Beautiful old building. Big chandeliers, elegant architecture, new copies of Log Cabin Living in every suite. (Well, ours, anyway.)

And just like that, the bell tolls for happy hour.

Clark, bartender at the Boston Beanery, maps out a plan for us. According to Morgantownbars.com, the city has almost 60 drinking establishments, many of them clustered in the small downtown. Clark's place is delightful, cozy and populated with people who can legally rent cars.

Which means we need to move on. Clark had pointed us in the direction of Chic-n-Bones Rhythm Cafe, where there are framed pictures of Elvis on the wall and the comely bartenders have perfected the art of the tight, rolled sweat pant. We enjoy a plate of fresh vegetables, and as I step away to the restroom, I see Sara made a friend!

The following is a reenactment of an actual barside conversation:

Guy at bar: "So, are you from around here?"

Sara: "No. Just visiting."