Have you ever thought, “Why is this the way that it is?” And then you remember, “Oh, right. I’m at Vassar College, a highly-selective, coeducational liberal arts school in the scenic Hudson Valley. Because of this, I must accept that which seems unacceptable.”
Here is a small portion of these travesties.
- The COVID test vending machine.
Of course! The machine is paid for by our tuition dollars. We must pay additional dollars to get the tests. We can only get a test every 24 hours. Also, tuition is going up. Don’t worry about it.
- The broken chair in Skinner practice room 318.
I cannot stress enough how much this chair is BROKEN. Like, it is shattered in pieces on the ground as though it is a breakaway prop from a movie. I don’t even know how this could have happened. Yet, it did.
- Similarly, the broken elevator in Skinner.
You know, because it’s not like anyone in Skinner would ever need to move anything heavy or bulky or whatever, like a piano or drums or amps or yourself. And it’s not like there’s a literal concert hall on the fourth floor or anything. And it’s not like the stairs seem purposefully engineered for violence against your lungs. And it’s not like musicians would ever need their lungs for anything.
- The automatic condiment dispensers at the Deece that cost an estimated total of $8,000.
God bless this decision. It was really so difficult for me to have to pump ketchup manually with my hand. It was also so difficult for me to know for certain that the machine was out of ketchup at Late Night because it would sputter and squeak and obviously spit out no ketchup. I love the introduction of the waiting game while my hand is awkwardly over the dispenser like it’s a terrible paper towel machine. Is there actually no ketchup, or is the thing just feeling angry today? It’s really fun that I never know.
- Vassar is an arboretum.
Okay, okay, all sarcasm aside, the trees are beautiful. You know what’s not beautiful, though? I have spent the past three weeks of my life in a constant cycle of sneezing, nose-blowing, eye-rubbing and not-quite-crying from all of the pollen. I didn’t know there could be so many types of pollen. I didn’t know I could be as allergic to something as I am to this. But it’s okay, because the tears in my eyes remind me that I am alive. As does the sneezing, I guess.
- The roundabout paths to buildings.
As PB so beautifully said in her convocation speech for the Class of 2023, meandering is encouraged at this school. It is also mandatory. There is no fast way to get anywhere on this campus, even though you think there would be. It is quite literally a straight shot from Main to the TAs, but we are willed to go on a knight’s quest in order to traverse the path between them. It’s like four intersections and a merge on and off a highway at this point. And listen: I’m no straight-and-narrow. A little bit of exploration does not daunt me. But sometimes it’s nice to know that you can just walk in a straight line from Rocky to Jewett instead of criss-crossing across the Quad.
- Cold rain
Don’t get me wrong—the Hudson Valley sure is scenic. It is also wet and gray literally all of the time every day. The weather is allegedly out of our control, which is why I am so delighted that I rarely ever see the sun. It’s too bright, anyway. In no way is my mood determined by how bright it is outside. And even if it were, that’s a ‘me’ problem. So days on end without sun are honestly invigorating. Because it teaches me to live life without Vitamin D. For in case I ever get trapped in a cave.
- Unjust ping-pong table policies
It seems that ResLife (or general hooligans) has a tenuous relationship with ping-pong tables. I have heard tell of two separate ping-pong tables being destroyed or otherwise rendered unusable in this semester alone. For the powers that be, a reminder that collective punishment is illegal under the Geneva Conventions. How does it feel to be a war criminal? Because this is war, and ping-pong always wins.
- The questionably-legal Main Suite Windows SituationTM
I definitely like having windows (my Lathrop single has the luxury of having two!), but sometimes I want none. Sorry, to clarify: I want one. I want one, but only if it faces a dingy hallway that is somehow scarily huge and weirdly small at the same time. It’s nice for my plants to get their requisite zero light. It helps them grow. Main is really the place to be if you like water that leaks into your room, showering basically out in the open and the joy of hearing every. Single. Music performance in the Villard Room. These “windowless” [legally I am required to say that they technically do have windows] rooms are just the cherry on top.
- The gastroenteritis outbreak?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!