Sitting in the admissions office during pre-frosh weekend, Shabazz Stuart, like all fellow pre-frosh, was waiting to meet his host upperclassman. Instead, he was greeted by a spirited admissions officer eager to ingratiate herself with the boy wonder.
"Shabazz!" she shouted. "What a pleasure to meet you in person!"
Little did I know that I, also a pre-frosh at the time, had front row seats to what was to be a very enthusiastic interview between said admissions officer and the Shabazz Stuart.
"I'm such a fan of yours, Shabazz," she said, proceeding to recite material by memory from his application. Shabazz played it cool, despite seeming slightly taken aback by the barrage of zeal, and registered her praise with a measured show of gratitude and embarrassment.
I sat, confused as to how Shabazz was pulling all this off — college applicants are supposed to fight to get into Tufts; Tufts isn't supposed to fight for college applicants. At least, that was my experience. But I wish you could've seen the admissions officer's body-language: the impassioned nods, the positioning of her torso so as to face the prodigy completely, the affirmation of every word that graced her ears. I couldn't help but laugh after awhile. In any other circumstance, putting it on that heavy would be considered a bold show of flirtation.
Catching up with Shabazz, now a sophomore, I asked how he was able to coax the admissions lady into her fascination stupor. Expecting a detailed game plan, I was surprised when Shabazz shrugged, not really sure how he did it. Apparently the dude works his magic on the fly better than the cast of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" Wahpowzah!
You may know Shabazz through his position in the TCU Senate. But, more likely, you know him because you've met him. And if you haven't met him, you're certainly in the minority. Asked about how he ran his campaign for Senate freshman year, Shabazz said that he "didn't really need to campaign." His natural inclination is to introduce himself to as many people as possible. So his "campaign" was really nothing short of Shabazz being Shabazz: the instantly likable, politically motivated social diplomat with a knack for insulting his acquaintances in the most well-meaning ways possible.
Observe: While Shabazz and I are eating in Dewick, a senior from a table beside us sees Shabazz and comes over to greet him. After exchanging pleasantries, Shabazz seamlessly adds, "I saw you the other day. You looked like you got hit by a train."
Hmm. Bold, I thought, certain that the comment would provoke rebuke, but the senior just laughed and laughed ... Oh, Shabazz.
Then it hit me: Shabazz is the master of the uninsulting insult. I've been a recipient on a number of occasions and harbor no hard feelings whatsoever. In fact, it's possible that I like him more post-insult.
It must be great to pass an insult off on somebody and completely get away with it; it proves you're the alpha dog, the big man on campus, the dizzy deuce. But Shabazz doesn't only get away with it, he does it in such a way that the insulted actually enjoy being insulted — they seem to appreciate the irony of such an amicable guy saying slightly objectionable things with an earnest smile.
But that isn't all Shabazz brings to campus. He's also the founder of Tie Tuesdays, a vestige of his time at St. Andrews, a prep-school with a uniform. In basic terms, he encourages all students to sport ties on Tuesdays. I predict here and now that campus will soon be rife with displays of this bizarre cultural practice.
So if you see Shabazz looking extra smart on Tuesday give him an "Ahoy!" You won't regret it. If you're lucky, you might even get insulted.
--Michael Goetzman is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Michael.Goetzman@tufts.edu.
