Enter the flashback machine. It's Aug. 27, 2007. I'm sitting on the academic quad listening to a man — whose name is remarkably similar to my favorite breakfast meat — talk about the opportunities I have to look forward to in the coming four years. He talks about the things I'll learn, the curiosity I'm encouraged to bring and the appreciation I will acquire in the process. Now flash forward 3 1/2 years. I've seen a historic presidential election, an economic collapse and, in the past two weeks, about 45 feet of snow. And, oh yeah, I learned a couple things too. I've learned the statistic impossibility of failing an English class, the cost−effectiveness of various alcohols and how to drive in Boston (ignore laws and everyone else's safety).
This column, however, is not about the things I've learned, but rather those that still remain a mystery to me, though I'm far too lazy to actually investigate. And so here are a couple of the things I haven't learned here and my entirely baseless beliefs about them.
Ballou Hall: I think I have most of this campus figured out. Anderson is for engineers, Tisch is for attractive women and Fletcher is for the clinically insane and masochistic. However, I still have no idea what goes on at Ballou. Look at that building. Look at it! It is huge. It has enormous columns. Like Parthenon big. And as far as I can tell, it has exactly one big, fancy room designed for me to fall asleep in while some old person jabbers away and a bunch of similarly old people nod pensively. So what is Ballou really for? Clearly it houses the Tufts Initiative for Poor Money Management run by Bernie Madoff and former Director of Student Activities (and convicted felon) Jodie Nealley. I mean, if you're gonna walk off with hundreds of thousands/millions of dollars, you might as well do it from a building with some big freaking columns.
The Leonard Carmichael Society: Things that I know about the LCS: 1) They throw a ballin' fake Vegas party and 2) everyone and their mother is somehow a member. That's it. Everything else is a mystery. Look, I like a good secret society as much as the next guy. "The Skulls" (2000) ... great film. It starred Paul Walker and Pacey from "Dawson's Creek" (1998−2003). They had European cars, big bank accounts and a complete lack of actual acting talent. What do you have, LCS? Goodwill and friendship? Not gonna cut it in this dog−eat−dog world. Do less.
Public Safety: Hey, nice RAV4. Now get a real job. You don't even do the fake police work that TUPD prides itself on. You don't arrest drunk, naked students. You don't sit in Carmichael for hours on end. So what do you do? Oh, that's right; you give out fake parking tickets. About those: Please continue to shower my car with them. I use the slips to write my grocery lists on. That's about as useful as you will ever be.
Entering Gifford House: This is one of the most puzzling things about my college career: Four years, hundreds of trips up and down Packard Ave., and not once have I seen anyone come in or out of Bacow's mansion. Seriously. Never. This leads me to speculate more seriously on the tunnel theory. Yes, there is a tunnel that runs from Gifford House to the underground parking lot by South. It's like the Batcave, except less Christian Bale and more Larry and Adele. Also, fewer Batmobiles and more environmentally friendly hybrids.
TUTV: Really, guys?
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