| | | Trading Spaces
| | | By Lesley Messer
When last year’s NUComment editor assigned me the “Ask a Sorority Girl” column, I was hesitant because I was sure I’d be judged for being a, well, Sorority Girl. Maybe you thought I had half a brain. Or maybe you thought that I was simply incapable of writing a column that wasn’t in Q and A format. Or maybe I’m being far too cynical and you thought nothing at all. Whatever the case may be, people our age and older tend to have stereotypes that can be hard to shake. After coming to grips with my own pretension and occasional tendency to judge, I decided to confront these demons head-on and take on the challenge of writing a new column, Trading Places. If you thought I was just a sorority girl, think again. Throughout the year, I will assume roles that I’ve never played to gain a more educated perspective and share it with you, the beloved NUComment reader. They say you can only judge a person once you’ve walked a mile in his shoes and in my first attempt at trading places, I decided to spend a weekend in the shoes of a student at Indiana University- a dreaded state school.
Northwestern is a tame school. It is. We make due with Dillo Day and suck it up and attend the few parties around campus on the weekends, but how often do we sit around bitching about the cops, RA’s, and talking about how cool it was when we visited our Best Friend at University of More Fun. I wanted to find out how different life could possibly could be at State School Exhibit A. So, one boring weekend before school started, I hopped in my big red Volvo and made a trip to Indiana University to visit my friend Caroline and do a little “research.”
Shortly after my arrival Friday night, the ritual fraternity pregame commenced. Though the keg-pumping frat boy atmosphere was familiar, the setup of the Greek houses at IU was a far cry from Northwestern’s, where the gender segregation is more prominent than at a middle school dance. Zoning is much more progressive at Indiana-- frats are located next door to and across the street from sororities. I speculate that this makes the morning walks home much less shameful. But, alas, I digress.
Caroline and I eventually found our way to a house where there were cases abounded and there were beer pong games galore. Surprisingly, our game of beer pong quickly turned into a roaring political dispute. Evidently, at IU, even Kerry v. Bush debates can be mixed with a friendly drinking game. Apparently, deep down, even the frattiest of frat boys at the most social party schools do, in fact, use their brains for more than coming up with the best line to get a freshman girl into the sack.
Upon wrapping up a discussion of the Iraqi war along with a well-earned victory, we made our way to the IU bars. Sports looked like the Mark II from the line outside, but the interior conjured up images of trendy downtown hotspots. There was a patio that put 1800 to shame. There was a dance floor to which the fancy-dancy Keg of Evanston couldn’t hold a candle. There was a stage where some band I’d never heard of was playing. There were decks and there were bars in every direction I turned. Needless to say, I was impressed.
I explored Bloomington the next day and was thrilled to discover an art fair going on downtown. Caroline then informed me that strangely enough, Bloomington has a pretty impressive cultural background. Hell, even the Dalai Lama’s nephew settled in Bloomington after seeking political refuge and opened his own restaurant. Evanston does boast a variety of restaurants and yes, we even have a Gap, relatives of the Dalai Lama? Not that I know of. Point for Bloomington.
At this point, I wasn’t as interested in the Dalai Lama as I was in the tailgate happening a few blocks away. This was no “let’s eat hotdogs in the parking lot of Welsh Arena” tailgate. It wasn’t a “let’s hide from the cops in a parking lot on north campus” or even a “kegs and eggs in the backyard of an off-campus house” situation either.
Imagine a huge chunk of grassy land roped off. Within this area there was a huge free for all. Cars, grills, loud music lots and lots and lots of beer, and more drunk kids than my soberish self could count. Cops were making a few arrests but for the most part, it was considered typical pre- football game debauchery.
Socially, everything at IU is bigger and better. There are more kegs. There are more options. But as I drove through the cornfields of Indiana on my drive back to Cincinnati, I started to realize that even with its setbacks, Evanston feels like a home. Campus may be small, but there’s something to be said for being able to meet someone and not having to wonder if you’ll ever see him/her again. My advice is to appreciate what we’ve got right here in our little suburb, but don’t forget to take a few road trips.
For suggestions of other roles you’d like to see me take on, don’t hesitate to contact me at l-messer@northwestern.edu. Unless its to tell me that you really think I do only have half a brain.
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