In With The New
- Written by Laura Fink
- September 4, 2010
The economic downturn has wreaked havoc upon the drinking and eating culture of this campus for far too long. Where there was once a bar on every corner that catered to every fancy of the expansive alcohol-loving student population, now the landscape stand barren. There is an ever-growing rate of apartment parties featuring Beer 30, frozen pizzas in every oven, and saddest of all, empty buildings that serve as tearful reminders of the watering holes that once completed our beautiful drinking-centric campus.
It would break my heart to see these establishments be demolished and removed from physical memory. Every time I pass by this block of broken dreams and fallen soldiers, I stifle a sob and quickly repress the nostalgia that creeps out of the boarded-up windows. I can think of no better way to honor their golden days than by proposing new businesses that could take over what once gave me so much happiness.
White Ho, my hope is that you will one day become a brothel to beat all brothels. With your rustic wooden accents and general welcoming atmosphere, you can bring in lonely souls from near and far to satisfy there most intimate needs. Without rum and Coke pitchers and karaoke to drown the every day sorrows that a college student faces, you will instead provide another type of happy release, so to speak. Beautiful coeds will linger in your dark- yet-inviting corners and bring hope to where it was once abandoned. You will give young men this great service in lieu of many drunken songs.
Garcia's, you once fed so many with your hot and delicious pizza, but ceased to exist as your owners abandoned you for that damn flying tomato balloon and psychedelic drugs. You, my friend, will become an opium den, a sweet escape for all. Where you once filled the emptiness of a lonely stomach, you will now fill the lungs with something even more pleasurable. You will draw in the mellow crowd and allow them to take in every intoxicating fume that your stove can release, as they gaze at clouds and walk-of-shamers for hours out of your large front windows.
Joe's Party Trolley, you once carried me across town as I hopped from 88 Broadway to Joe's, but you now sit in a parking lot, unused. I can barely stand to see you discarded in such an unforgiving way, such as a favorite toy is taken to the Salvation Army after a nasty case of chicken pox. For you, it is my hope that you will relive your glory days as the greatest means of transportation on campus, but for a more important cause. You will blast "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake from your speakers, a call that will be heard by all who wake up in an unfamiliar bed next to a stranger. Instead of leaving them to trek alone across a cold, unforgiving campus, you are the beacon of hope that will take them where everyone wants to be in the end: home.
So to my dear friends, White Ho, Garcia's, and Joe's Party Trolley; I wish nothing for you all but a renewed sense of love that comes with the smiling faces of drunken patrons, and I hope an affluent reader out there will see these words and instill the effort that is necessary to restore your ever-giving being. Be strong, friends! With these words of advice, the short-pocketed student population will find your new and improved services to be entirely necessary, and you shall once again be filled with happy souls.