one story behind the diamond dish KOPITKA!
My brother, trudging back from Faurot Field usually after a typical riduclous 72 to 0 thrashing by Oklahoma or Nebraska, had this habit of hauling himself up on a streetlamp just outside of the Vu, the Déjà Vu, a campus bar, and he’d raise his free hand, make a fist and at the top of his lungs start bellowing out “Koptika! Kopitka! KOPITKA!
Now, many parents with their children in tow would grimace in fear and flee from this obvious drunken madman shouting “Kopitka”. Coeds returning from the Moo U football stadium would grab the arms of their boyfriends in terror and steer wide of the lampost as they tried to scurry into the entrance of the raucus Vu. As noisy as it was, the bouncers standing in the doorway invariably would look up and eventually walk over and tell my brother to cut it out and get down before he got a good ass-whuppin. But he’d just go on bellowing Kopitka and then suddenly jump off and run right into the bar dodging the bouncers who had now vacated their posts all the while he’d be pumping his fist in the air shouting “Kopitka Kopitka Kopitka” as if it were some Slavik death chant. People standing nearby, equally inebriated would wobble on their legs and ask each other, what in the hell was he shouting? And sometimes people I’d be with or knew would come up to me and ask me what was up with my brother, what he was he so angry about. I usually never bothered to explain to them that kopitka is actually a polish dish – diamond shape noodles my babci made from scratch and which you put sugar and milk on top of before eating. So it was no slavik death chant – he was simply encouraging the campus population to increase their consumption of diamond shape noodles. Standing on a lampost bellowing out “diamond shape noodles” would hardly do that for the flour and dairy trade. Shouting kopitka sure sounded better, and more menacing.