Imagine a place where everyone looks the same, speaks the same and thinks the same. This is not a fictional place that can only be found in a Stephen King novel. This place actually exists, and it’s called BYU.
Over the short break between Spring and Summer Semesters, I had the pleasure of visiting a friend who made the mistake of attending BYU (he was young and naive when he made the decision, so try not to hold it against him).
My friend took me on a tour of the campus while telling me the history of the school’s landmarks and pointing out all the obvious Zoobies in their plaid shirts and cotton socks with Tevas. On this little adventure, I visited the Y’s food court, toured its library and interacted with students.
As a result of my visit, I would like to remind you to never take the U or its students for granted-things could be so much worse.
The students at the Y would have brought a tear of joy to the face of Adolph Hitler; seemingly every student is a blond-haired, blue-eyed Aryan. Diversity does exist at the Y, but the title “diverse” only extends to people who will drink caffeinated soda.
I never knew how good I had it at the U’s residence halls, either, until I saw the dungeons BYU students are forced to inhabit. The rooms are smaller than a prison cell, and your roommates are arguably more intimidating than convicts. Students have to use community bathrooms and showers, and, worst of all, they cannot have visitors of the opposite sex in their dorms. It seems to me that BYU’s dorms are a breeding ground for a type of male bonding that Larry Miller would not support.
And to those who write letters to the editor proclaiming The Chronicle as nothing more than a rag, you’ve obviously never had the pleasure of reading The Daily Universe, BYU’s student paper.
Suffice it to say, The Universe is nothing more than a propaganda machine for the Y’s administration. And while many of the The Chronicle’s letters are annoying, BYU student letters consist of complaints that people are eating in class because at BYU that is the only thing wrong with the world.
The ground crews of both schools get a tip of the hat. Both schools are hosts to green grass and the coveted shade trees of summer. Unlike the U, however, the Y does not nearly have the problems we do with goat paths, but that is probably because the Cougar police keep the students on the straight and narrow.
While wandering the BYU campus, one thing marked the differences between our schools more than anything else, though: study habits.
At the U, students use couches, chairs, tables and the grass for sleeping. Students at the Y, instead, use these things for studying. Not once did I see a student doze while at the Y, and they don’t even serve coffee on campus.
Surprisingly, the Y is actually better than the U in one area: its Union’s food court actually serves food that students want to eat, like Taco Bell. Sorry, Chartwells.
While both the U and its students may not be perfect, at least we can rest assured that we still have a leg up on those damned Cougars. Maybe if a few of them read this column, they can actually find more to complain about than eating in class.
