As per my Friday evening routine of writing while drinking a whisky sour and listening to Sports by Huey Lewis and the News followed by 1984 from Van Halen, I had the first draft of this week's column done and looking good.
Unfortunately, after a weekend wrought with lackluster parties and a gut-wrenching loss to UNLV, my column concerning dorm life wasn't doing the trick anymore. It was time to think of something exceptionally stellar to lighten up your Tuesday. Inspiration came in the form of Ms. White and her amazing library.
If you've ever taken a walking tour of the campus, you're apt to recall one of the most prevalent legends unique to UW-Madison. In 1994, Playboy ranked College Library as the third best alcohol-free place in the country for men to pick up women. While I don't think any building in Madison can be considered \free of alcohol,"" the promotion continues to tantalize and inspire students.
Ever since, other media outlets such as Jay Leno and Rolling Stone have tried to see if the rumors are true. Dissatisfied with the results, it was high time for a journalist representing Badgers everywhere to find the real truth.
Thus, at 8 p.m. last Sunday night, armed with a new shirt, an open mind and a healthy dose of Old Spice body spray, I embarked on a quest to find the girl of my dreams-at College Library.
After a short stroll, my roommate Geoff and I arrived at our education destination. The library was much less crowded than I expected, which allowed us to promptly grab a table, where Geoff commenced his study of economics, and I began my study of sexonomics.
As I glanced around our surroundings, the two key components of the Helen C. legend were made clear: 1) every time a new person enters a room, they are the immediate center of attention and 2) eye contact is about as prevalent as vomit in the elevators of Sellery on a Friday night. My glances would be met by several other people, perhaps in a quest of their own to find true, non-whiskey influenced romance.
Yet after 30 fruitless minutes of putting out the vibe at our table, I made my way downstairs to the caf??, and was met not by passionate romance, but by the venerable Mike Jones, which you might say is better, unless you're in the marching band. Interested in the experiment, my friend and fellow columnist agreed to observe and assist the research I had undertaken, and we made our way back up to floor two.
Hours passed and relocation did nothing to help the expedition. The night's objective wasn't met, but a valuable life-lesson had been learned: you can't go looking for romance-romance will find you. I don't fault College Library; surely many people go inside to study, and walk out with an exciting new possibility.
The Playboy-esque results I had hoped for didn't happen, but who knows, maybe next time, when I go to College Library to study the origins of representative democracy, I might just meet a girl who loves classic rock and Old Style just as much as I do.
If you need me, I'll be at College Library every night for the rest of the semester.
writePNL@yahoo.com.
