Babes, science and alcohol.

The same late-night revelers who spent their high school and college years plodding through mandatory science classes are now gathering voluntarily to listen to presentations on principles of string theory or how orbitofrontal cortexes work — as long as it takes place far from the fluorescent lights of classroom.

Science groups for young professionals who don’t wear white coats, like the year-old Secret Science Club at Union Hall, are cropping up in bars and bookstores all over the country, from Massachusetts to Montana.

“If you have a certain type of job, after a while that part of your brain starts to deteriorate,” said Amy Lee, 25, who works at an Internet startup and was attending her second Secret Science Club meeting. “You want to use it again. Plus, there’s alcohol.”

It's interesting that this ancient net tradition has instantiated in meat-space, errrrrr, perhaps meet-space is more accurate.

When Eric Kandel, a 2000 winner of the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine, came to speak at the Secret Science Club this summer, about 100 people attended and another 150 were turned away, creating a sometimes raucous scene. The Union Hall bouncers had to clear the bar several times.

“They were horrified by the crowd’s behavior,” said Dorian Devins, 48, a radio host who founded the group with Michael Crewdson, 43, and Margaret Mittelbach, 44, both authors. “They said, ‘Rock crowds are nothing like this.’ There were fisticuffs at the door.”

The Secret Science Club also plays host to an annual taxidermy contest, where entrants present their specimens — everything from a stuffed armadillo to a bird of paradise to a tableau of albino weasels — before a panel of judges.

I saw a phunny TV show that combined cage fighting with computing arcana. Guys would pummel one another and then, between rounds, answer questions about geekery. Points earned with their fists (and knees and elbows, etc.) were added to those earned with their brains to determine a winner. It puts a new twist on the idea of a student athlete, and upgrades the somewhat tired idea of a warrior-poet to warrior-geek.

Some science club attendees come more for the social benefits than for academic pursuits.

“I figure it’s a great way to meet like-minded singles,” said Lisa Dorenfest, 45, a project manager at an investment bank who was at Café Scientifique at Rialto, a restaurant and bar in downtown Manhattan. “If I do meet someone, lucky me. If not, I’m still entertained.” At the meeting, she offered to share her handout with a nice-looking actuary.

I wonder if there will be interesting consequences in future, if greater interest in the sciences, even if it's just pop-sci entertainment, will spur innovation?