Posts tagged with groups.
Beware the free food
I wandered into the office of the Ubyssey last week, enticed by promises of free snacks. Before I had time to get my bearings, I'd been coerced into drawing an editorial cartoon. I explained that my efforts would never produce something on par with one of the masters of the genre, but staff members - a hardy race of dwarves who dwell in the subterranean bowels of the Student Union Building - assured me that they had the lowest expectations. Literally any two-dimensional figure would do. No Ubysseyan is capable of holding a pencil, their hands having grown knotty and crabbed over years of typing editorials and forging blades of legendary power. Thus the need, occasionally, to steal away mortals from the Realm of Men. I was ready to bolt for the door, until I learned that my labours would be rewarded with taquitos - crisp, savoury pastries prepared by the basement folk on festive occasions. The scent of microwaved bean-paste filled my nostrils. There was no choice but to stay.
It seemed like I stayed there for only an hour. But when I emerged blinking into the daylight, gray whiskers reaching down to my midriff, I realized that nearly a week had passed. Time works differently in the Otherworld than in our mundane universe. That's when I understood, to my horror, the true purpose of the free snacks. I had dined at the table of the Gentry. Never again would I be able to return fully to the human realm. I was destined to become one of the knoll folk.
I'm sure I wasn't the only one to fall prey to such a trap. During these first couple weeks of classes, it seems as though the campus is full of people recruiting. Fraternities set up tents, offering students the opportunity to purchase friends on the go. Clubs (but, disappointingly, no Lodges) try to entice new members. Diverse sects (and, perhaps, some cults) hand out pamphlets and cards. I got one the other day that informed me "God is better than Sex." Turns out I had it wrong all along.
For the very first week, the Student Union Building was a sort of bazaar. Every time I passed through, phonemongers would try desperately to sell me a new three-year plan. Wizened women in brightly-coloured scarves proffered student lines of credit. Portly, loquacious merchants hawked UBC t-shirts to passersby. It was a gaudy and frantic scene, filled with the sort of crass consumerism that would have disgusted me in my teenage punk days. I've long since surrendered my pride and liberty to the mighty dollar, however, and the spectacle of thousands of my peers lapping up the excretions of Moloch seems only natural - comforting, almost. I myself plan on visiting the Imaginus poster sale this afternoon, and buying decorations for my room. Something "fresh," like a poster of Bob Marley, or a print of "Crazy Stairs."
It's not all buying and selling, though. There have been numerous opportunities to indulge in free hot dogs, hamburgers, and other delights. Last week a man showed up in my neighbourhood and began grilling. Within minutes, denizens of the area were lined up around the block, each patiently waiting their turn for delicious charred meat. Even in the 21st century, we're ruled by a mead-hall mentality straight out of Beowulf, a hunger for the communal carnivorous experience. If you grill it, they will come. I didn't realize how many people lived in Fairview Place until the free barbeque. I haven't seen most of them since. I can only hope for their sakes that the meat wasn't tainted with the same fairy magic that has made me a slave to the Ubysseyan Underlords.
The start-of-school fervour is dying down now. Already life is becoming routine. I'm more sleep-deprived than I have been in ages. Most of my classes start in the morning, and most of my drinking starts in the afternoon. Sleep usually happens very late at night, sometimes suddenly and without warning. Pretty soon I'll have to break the pattern and start behaving like something closer to an adult. Sleep deprivation leads to physical and emotional stress, and do you know what those lead to? The dread Pig Virus, that squealing plague that threatens to swallow our civilization whole. Everywhere there are hand sanitizers and posters warning about associating with the wrong microbes. My irresponsible behaviour could give the plague a toehold, allow it access to the delicate microsystem of the UBC campus. Soon, students will trot about on all fours, rooting behind trash bins for scraps, bathing in mud and feces as protection against flies and the hot sun. Spoiler warning: It will be Animal Farm reversed. Next year, maybe they'll serve pork chops at the first week barbeques.
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BRYCE WARNES
