COLUMN: Miss U.

From Arne Thommessen's "Hear Me Now, Believe Me Later," Fall '93 My first step in answering this question was to ask a random sample comprising of "the Norwegians!," a Drexel student and Gulf War veteran, an alumnus, and an unspecified number of unenlightened Americans. The Drexel student quickly revealed that he had his brain blown out by Iraqi fire, by calling for a permanent draping of the button outside Van Pelt Library. The rest of the randomly selected group displayed more piety and managed to paint an honest picture of the most memorable and unmemorable aspects of Penn. The jury reached a split decision on the unworthiness of the neighborhood. Their first encounters with the residents in West Philadelphia had been rather stressful. Nonetheless, the worthy Quakers believed they would leave Penn with fond memories of brotherly love. Who can possibly forget the excitement of a late night movie at the theater at 40th and Walnut? Glimpsing through the blurry haze of pot smoke, you catch yourself wondering whether the Boyz in the Hoods behind you carry Magnum 44's in their pockets – or are they just happy to see you? The fun continues after the show, as the audience plays hide and seek on the way home to 44th and Spruce. More precisely, you play hide, they play search and destroy. The tax collectors outside WaWa testify to the great American work ethic. Regardless of weather conditions and public holidays, they seldom fail to show up for their work of redistributing student wealth. Their colleagues outside Billy Bob's on the other hand, will not be missed. Their hands-on approach was not greatly appreciated by the victims of Billy Bob's cuisine. The foreign students were impressed by how safe they felt at Penn. They trembled at the shaky memories of unarmed police and restrooms without assault alarms. Transfer students from schools with prominent Marketing departments especially treasured the alarms in the men's room in Steinberg Dietrich. The person who set out the false rumor that Penn is the party school of the Ivies can expect a well deserved beating if he ever shows up. If anything, the reputation probably says more about the other Ivy League schools than Penn. The party scene moved underground after the spectacularly successful campaign to pretend students do not drink alcohol. Inhiki, Oracle and Castle have replaced Lame Pie and Lambda Bamba as the prime hot spots. Nobody said they would miss the Tabard parties, though. But according to the survey's definition of a party, there had not yet been a Tabard party, as they understood the word. The loss of departing Vice Provost for University Life, Kim "not exactly Jim Morrison" Morrisson, will be bearable. As a co-architect of the outdoor drinking ban at the Palladium, she apparently believed Samuel Adams was one of the Founding Fathers instead of America's premium outdoor thirst quenching beer. A frequent underage drinker declared he would miss the blind bouncers at the Palladium, although he would not miss the blind Escort Service drivers. His drinking mentor said he would mourn the loss of the double vodka shots, but was reconciled when told that he could also buy them elsewhere. The microphone and video camera at Smoke's are the closest most Penn students will ever come to fame. The consensus was that their brief moments of basking in the media spotlight will be cherished forever. Some things are missing already. The greasy goal posts from Franklin Field vanished in thick water, but will reappear on next year's bursar bill as a goal post fee. Still, there will be few complaints. At least this time, students could see where their money was going. Few unphilanthropic students, though, will miss the annual tuition hikes. The unanimous panel had more esteem for the legendary Quarterman, who has asked for just one quarter as long as anybody can remember. People agreed that they would have enjoyed college more without academic requirements. A vast majority would much rather have been outside diversifying Locust Walk than wasting their time in crummy study lounges. Students of color, red and blue, also admitted to a serious addiction to the sound of a slam dunk against Princeton at the Palestra. A dissident voice claimed he would not miss all the short girls with fat legs. This clearly offensive and sexist remark represents the opinion of the respondent and is completely independent of either the undersigned or this newspaper's position. We emphasize that we have no bias against short girls with fat legs. Women fitting these characteristics are discouraged from confiscating more than one issue of the DP each. Although questions about the U.S. was not part of the survey, the foreign students repeatedly mentioned three grievances against the American way of life. First of all, they were fed up with explaining what was up or how they were doing, when people just kept on walking and were clearly not interested in the answer. Secondly, they were sick and tired of the American soft-heartedness for whales and dolphins. "Kill them all. Let God sort them out," demanded a clearly agitated subject. Finally, they feared being approached by strangers asking them to attend bible study gatherings. The foreign Wharton students preferred instant gratification. At their young age, the net present value of heavenly rewards was small and highly uncertain. The sole alumnus in the survey deviated from the current students in more than one way. She had the nerve to suggest that she missed the food at 1920 Commons and the party scene at Penn. Then again, she had never been to a Tabard party. The alumnus' sentiment sums it all up. Going to Penn is a dirty job, but someone has to do it. This columnist did it, and he is damn glad he did. This school has more soul than the seven other Ivy League schools combined. But then again, it's only the Ivy League. Arne Thommessen is a senior Entrepreneurial Management and Finance major from Oslo, Norway. Hear Me Now, Believe Me Later appeared alternate Fridays.

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