Well folks, it looks like we’re in for another splendid academic year in the happiest place on Earth — er, the happiest college campus in the country! The sun is shining, crushed, empty Keystone Light cans are littered throughout the campus and Montee Ball is on his own two feet and running for touchdowns despite the best efforts of his foes. Indeed, we are already living the life.
Well, sort of. Our favorite drunk food on campus, Fat Sandwich, went under, as did Fridas, the best margarita joint in town. Nothing gold can stay. F(at) and F(rida’s) have expired. Luckily for the letter F, reincarnation exists in the form of Fried and Fabulous, a new drunk food cart located on Broom Street, across from the Chocolate Shoppe. For the last week and a half, the proprietor of the stand has offered fragmented figures of fried fatteners free of charge, and boy are they fabulous. Forget about any pedestrian deep fried peanut butter sandwich you may have had in the past. When you have had a few too many from Fried and Fabulous, you will find yourself exceedingly fond of this foundation.
And that’s just the foodie scene around town. My personal favorite part about being back on campus is the mid-afternoon school day. To me, the experience of waltzing through Library Mall, with the September sun and a light breeze playing second piccolo to the sensation of glancing at the cornucopia of colors and the array of aromas emanating from the food carts, not to mention listening to a man in a bright orange jumpsuit play a calming tune on the piccolo is ineffable. If I had my druthers, it would always be 1:30 in the afternoon, I would have a lifetime supply of iced coffee and stimulating reading material, and I would pop an eternal squat on the nearby steps next to the four-sided clock with hands that point to different minutes on each side.
For the last three years, I have viewed this campus as my playground. The Serf, my monkey bars. State Street, the tunnel that you can army crawl through one hundred times in a day and never tire of. The Kohl Center and Camp Randall Stadium, the merry-go-round where you almost always have an incredible time, but every once in a blue moon, your experience there just makes you feel like puking.
With such a wealth of toys in our arsenal, with so many tools for elating ourselves at our disposal, it is no wonder that the Huffington Post has endorsed us as the kings and queens of bloated endorphin levels. It is sad to imagine the day in which I can no longer stroll down State Street, patronize the four–block long Farmers Market, watch the Badgers stomp on conference and non-conference opponents alike, get postgame Chipotle, and gulp down a Wando’s fishbowl accompanied by an entourage of joyous sports fans amid a sea of red.
We rock out so hard here that myriad kids from Los Angeles, who have never even seen a snowflake in their lives, pledge to dedicate four years of their lives here knowing full well that for roughly half of the time they are here, the air outside will be colder than [insert harsh celebrity breakup due to an affair here].
Like anyone else, we are human and we have our share of woes. For starters, we’re still looking at bringing home our first Rose Bowl since 2000, which will be an uphill battle. Secondly, the terrace is only habitable for three and a half months out of the school year. Thirdly, we have way too many ice cream and Badger gear shops around. What’s that you say? None of these are legitimate complaints, and all are in fact positives, as in we’ve been to consecutive Rose Bowls, we have a beautiful terrace to watch boats sail and drink pitchers of Spotted Cow for roughly half of the time we are here, and we can eat ice cream and support Bucky from almost any square block on campus. Fine, if that’s the way you see it, I suppose the glass is half full.
At the end of the day, the Huffington Post hit the nail on the head. For here at UW, our student body is synonymous with the production company behind the last decade of mediocre Adam Sandler movies. We are Happy Madison.
Have any solid UW-Madison treats that Zac forgot? Enlighten him at pestine@wisc.edu.
