We all know that kid: the one from lecture who, no matter the weather, will insist on wearing the same old, weird-smelling beanie every day. Whether it’s due to the fact that he constantly argues with the professor, or that he may be hiding Lord Voldemort under that beanie, we all seem to be just a bit meaner to that kid. And please, remember, don’t try this at home. This kind of thing isn’t for the faint of heart.
I woke up this morning with the idea of trying something new. Maybe it was the bright skies signaling that spring is finally coming, or maybe I was a little contact high from the (questionably?) homeless guy that smokes a bowl on the bench out front of my house every morning. Either way, I decided it was time: I was finally going to wear that beanie I had bought for “fashion” not “practicality” in the eighth grade.
Putting on an outfit I thought would truly encompass the beanie vibe, I confidently step out to start the day!
And people (thanks roomie) were immediately mean about it. So end of article I suppose.
Kidding, we journalists must soldier on. Brushing off my roommate’s comments (which The Black Sheep has censored—typical liberal media), I begin my journey to class. Walking down Bancroft, everything is quite… A little too quiet. That’s when I realize: no catcalls! It seems my beanie and my male-for-Berkeley length hair may have provided the perfect disguise from people on balconies. This can’t all be bad!
Next stop: Strada! I was pleasantly surprised here; the workers were just as rushed and gruff as usual, and they still remembered my order. It was nice to be treated as just a regular human being again.
I would only realize when I checked my bank account that they weren’t being nice. Thanks for the double priced regular drip coffee :/
I arrive to class just on time for my midterm. Everything seems fine, until we get handed the test. Though the professor had said there wouldn’t be any tricks, *surprise bitch* the midterm really felt like one big trick. I can’t help but blame this cursed beanie on my way out of class. But it is Berkeley, so who knows, really.
The sun’s come out, so I decide to take a nap on the glade. 90% of the people here are stoned anyway, they surely won’t care!
A surprisingly short time later, this theory was proven wrong when a not-so-good boy came with his bad boy gang to steal my hat. 10/10 would let them steal it again though.
Wrestling my beanie back, I realize I am rather hungry, and decide to eat at one of Cal’s fine dining establishments: Pat Browns (aka Cal’s only fine dining establishment). I figure I’ll be more accepted on the CNR side of campus, anyway.
Honestly, there was not much of note here. But strangely, I did suddenly have a full understanding of how to properly sort my garbage. Ironically, this may be the first time I HAVEN’T had someone be mean to me in Browns.
Thinking it was about time to give this experiment a rest, I start heading home. Walking through Sproul, I notice something odd: a distinct lack of flyers. Instead of the usual avoiding eye contact when someone tries to get me to join a club, people are giving me a wide berth. Huh. As annoying as it usually is to be asked if I’m interested in joining a business fraternity everytime I walk through Sproul, this latter option is rather lonely. Grass is always greener I suppose.
I decide to end my experiment here. While the results seem to be more of a silent treatment than flat-out aggression, I need way more attention to get me through the day. Besides, I really think that we all take for granted how much silence can hurt. Maybe next time you see some weird kid in a beanie in the 70 degree heat, you’ll take a step out of your comfort zone and try to talk to them. I know I will.