I think I speak for all of us when I say that this little pandemic has lasted much longer than anticipated. Although I was expecting to return to my shabby Village C East dorm (as a sophomore, I know, embarrassing) back in April 2020, I am currently writing this article from my turquoise middle school bedroom. Needless to say, things are not going as planned.
Since the higher powers that be have decided we will not be returning in person for the spring semester, I would like to give my two cents on the drawbacks of Zoom University. Of course, online classes suck major butt, but I can deal with virtual lectures (to a certain extent). I can truly say that what I miss the most are my seemingly mundane Georgetown University experiences. Despite complaining about them constantly, I have embarrassingly realized that these experiences are essential to my happiness.
Without further ado, here are the things I thought I would never miss at Georgetown that I would now exchange for my left foot.
1. Late Night Lauinger <3
Never thought I would miss her, but being exiled from Lau has really got me in my feels. Any normal Georgetown student knows Lau is not meant for studying, it is a place to socialize and ignore your impending deadlines. Our beloved library is where you run into everybody and their mother (including the fling you are currently avoiding — gotta love Georgetown hookup culture).
And, of course, it wouldn’t be a Lau night without taking a break at Midnight Mug every 10 minutes after accomplishing approximately nothing. What I would give to complain about how much I have to do only to gossip and online shop while ignoring the entirety of my homework. Even being treated like a war criminal after talking on Lau 4 is beginning to seem enticing. After all, Lau is a dingy rathole, but it’s my dingy rathole.
2. Village A Rooftop Party
Vil A is truly the crustiest of the crusties. When I first visited Georgetown with my unsuspecting mother as a senior in high school, we had to part beer cans like the Red Sea to reach the rooftop.
During the majority of the year, Vil A is a cursed place where frat boys play Sicko Mode on Tuesday nights. During major holidays (i.e., St. Patrick’s and Georgetown Day, the only holidays that matter), on the other hand, there is a mass pilgrimage of students to the rooftop. Whether you drunkenly take a picture with SNAP or climb on top of a random apartment (I’m speaking from secondhand experience, I swear), Vil A is a place of freedom where everyone has the liberty to be a degenerate.
3. MUG during a Post-Class Rush
Paying for an overpriced, mediocre chai latte was an integral part of my weekly routine before COVID-19. Immediately after my abysmal “Comparative Political Systems” lecture every Tuesday and Thursday, I would book it to MUG for my liquid dose of serotonin (God knew I needed it).
Unfortunately, it seemed every other student had the exact same idea, and I would be stuck among a mishmash of international students, Gucci sneakers, and Canada Gooses (or is it Geese? Who knows). Would I still wait for a slightly annoying amount of time and throw my precious Flex Dollars down the drain? You bet. And I would do it again.
4. Fake Chipotle Week
I would firstly like to give a shoutout to Kim Kim, the true hero of Leo’s, for giving all students heaping piles of food. The day she was transferred from Sazon to Olive Branch was a loss for all of us.
Kim Kim was a particular celebrity because of her serving sizes during Fake Chipotle Week, which was the only time Leo’s food was edible. Every student would wait ardently in anticipation of this cyclical event – even in light of the horrors their toilet experienced only two weeks prior. Although the chicken was bland and the ground beef slightly suspicious, the sheer amount of sour cream and pico de Gallo made this dish a staple of fine dining at Leo O’Donovan’s on the Waterfront TM.
5. An Underground Prison (I mean, a Lecture in an ICC Classroom)
Whoever designed the ICC classrooms was truly a disturbed individual. They must have served time or possibly frequented juvie in their youth, because its resemblance to a penitentiary is uncanny. The architect truly looked at the rooms, noted the depressing wall paint and absence of windows, and went, “Yes, this will prepare them for life without parole.” Just existing in an ICC classroom has me spiraling into a fever dream about Morgan Freeman helping me execute a prison break (“Shawshank Redemption,” anyone?).
But, compared to sitting in my apartment and staring at my computer screen all day, a glorified prison cell is starting to look pretty tempting. Lock me up, officer.
Although we aren’t allowed back for at least another semester, I hope you enjoyed reminiscing with me. I look forward to seeing you all on the other side.