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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (April 30, 1987)
cs Farmers Write! Life's a fiesta in Mexico I have seen paradise, and Christi its name is Co- DaUQherty zumel, Mexico. Guest Columnist And through mmmmmm—mma—mmmmm an error in accounting, I almost spent the rest of my natural life there. It was spring break, and my best friend and I had spent all our savings to find Utopia on a green island in the Caribbean off the coast of Can- cun, Mexico. Twelve miles long, surrounded by turquoise blue seas and laden with co conut trees and orchids, not to men tion iguanas and Latins, Cozumel is heaven to the vacationer who doesn’t want to waste time tumbling down frozen slopes or driving stationwa- gons full of screaming children to sweat in the Florida sun in front of fake castles and plastic cartoon char acters. We just wanted to relax, and from the moment we stepped off the rick ety AeroMexico plane, everything slowed down. It takes them two hours just to unload your luggage there be cause, like everything else, they do it by hand, two suitcases at a time. It was great. A Mexican man grabbed our suit cases from us the instant we picked them from the pile where they’d been deposited by the two guys unloading the plane, and proceeded to cart them off despite our protests. We fol lowed in hurried panic, and, ignoring us completely, he deposited them be side a beat-up Volkswagen bus, the “transportation to and from airport” promised in the brochure. “Ride my bus!” the driver insisted. “I hof air condeetioneeng ond life band!” After we got in and he closed the door, he reached across my lap and rolled down the window, then he turned on a tiny, AM radio. “Air condeetioneeng! Life band!” he said, laughing gleefully, and then peeled out of the parking lot in typ ical Mexican fashion as Sue and I held on for dear life. That’s how it began, and in retro spect, it’s easy for me to realize how — in the heady tropical atmosphere where the air smells of flowers and where I fell in love four times in five days and where the only liquid a dis criminating American tourist would touch is Tecate beer — I would for get to keep track of my money. We lay on the beach for days and shopped every night, buying huge quantities of completely useless stuff like sharks’ teeth, onyx elephants, straw hats and countless conch shells with polished-pink insides. It was incredibly cheap and we had a ball. But if you buy enough of any thing it adds up eventually. And I’d only taken $80. Moped rentals, snorkeling equip ment, bright blue hammocks and beer — all necessary vacation equip ment — left me on the last evening trying to figure how many dollars were in 5,000 pesos, and realizing sadly that the answer was $10 and my souvenir-buying days were over. There was still no panic, as there was only one dinner left to buy, and maybe a lunch the next day and defi nitely beer. It was not until the next evening, when we walked with sunburned faces and sand that would linger for weeks in our shoes, into the crowded, stuffy little structure they generously called an airport, that the realization finally struck me. The only thing our tour package didn’t include was a $10 exit fee which was absolutely necessary in or der to leave the country. I felt sick. I dug frantically through my purse and stared at the change feeling be trayed. 800 pesos. Sue had shared a similar epiphany at the same moment, and her search revealed a similar quandary. We stared at each other aghast. We rushed to the tax counter where the fee is paid to a seedy- looking, unwashed type, and began talking hysterically at the same time, but his gaze was unmoved and we felt hopeless as we shoved all our bills and change across the counter at him, and we prayed he understood enough English to figure it out. And we hoped he liked tanned, American girls enough to give us some slack. “Thees ees not enuf,” he told us, shaking his head sadly. “Jou cont go home. Jou stay.” Sue, exercising her prerogative as female psychology major with an IQ of 175, promptly burst into helpless tears. It worked. His look changed to one of concern, then embarrassment. He struggled for a moment in indecision, looking at my distraught face and Sue’s tears, then quickly, surrepti tiously, he stamped our forms and handed them back. “Now jou no cry,” he said smiling worriedly. “No tears. Now jou go home and no forgeet jour fronds een Mehico. Jou most com bok, and no forgeet jour exeet fee. Si?” We nodded repeatedly, grinning idiotically as we backed away from the counter, professing our undying love for our new friend and his won derful country. We nearly ran to the gate. Which was a foolish waste of en ergy. Because we were in Mexico. So, of course, our plane was three hours late. Christi Daugherty is a senior journa lism major and a staff writer for The Battalion. Columns submitted for Farmers Write should be be tween 700 and 850 words. The editorial staff re serves the right to edit for grammar, style and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author’s in tent. Each column must be signed and must include the major, classification, address and telephone num ber of the writer. Only the author’s name, major and classification will be printed. The Battalion (USPS 045 360) Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference The Battalion Editorial Board Loren Steffy, Editor Marybeth Rohsner, Managing Editor Mike Sullivan, Opinion Page Editor Jens Koepke, City Editor Jeanne Isenberg, Sue Krenek, News Editors Homer Jacobs, Sports Editor Tom Ownbey, Photo Editor Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting newspaper oper ated as a community service to Texas A&M and Bryan-College Sta tion. Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography classes within the Depart ment of Journalism. The Battalion is published Monday through Friday during Texas A&M regular semesters, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $17.44 per semester, $34.62 per school year and $36.44 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on re quest. Our address: The Battalion, Department of Journalism, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843-4 111. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Battalion, De partment of Journalism, Texas A&M University, College Station TX 77843-4111. Opinion Don’t use an oxy, Moron The word for today is oxymo ron. According to Webster’s New Collegiate Diction ary, an oxymoron is “a combination of contradictory or incongruous words.” The ex ample Webster gives is “cruel kindness.” These are words that don’t belong together. These are words that look funny when you think about what they mean separately and in context to gether. I have compiled a list of my favorite oxymorons for your reading pleasure. • Jumbo Shrimp: Jumbo means big. Shrimp means little. So what is a jumbo shrimp? The only thing jumbo about the shrimp I’ve seen in most restaurants is the price. • Military Intelligence: The military is a group of people who get together so they can hurt other groups of people. Intelligence means thinking. There is nothing thoughtful about the military’s use of bombs, tanks, guns and other implements of destruction. There’s nothing intelligent about war. • Good Morning: Good means en joyable. The morning is the earliest part of the day. It’s impossible to wake up for the earliest part of the the day and enjoy it. By the time a day becomes good, it is no longer morning. • Country Music: The country is a rural, unsophistcated area. Music is a se ries of enjoyable sounds. The sounds made by Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, the Jugs (or is that Judds) and other “country” stars are not enjoyable. • Scientific Creationism: Scientific means using methods and principles of reasoning. Creationism means the uni verse was popped into existence by a su preme being. There is nothing scientific about thinking the universe came into being by the wave of some giant meta physical creature whose existence can’t be proved. • Business Ethics: Business is an or ganization or group of organizations that trys to make money. Ethics are a set of moral principles or values. The things business does to make money cannot be called ethical by any stretch of the imagination. • God is Love: This is a term that’s been used for years but, if you read the Bible, it is an oxymoron. In Exodus 20:5, it says: “Thou shall not how down thyself to them (graven images or other gods), nor serve them, for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God.” In 1 Corin thians 18:4, it says: “Love is patient,love is kind. It is not jealous, it does not boast, is not proud.” Just one of many contradictions you can find in the Bible if you’re willing to look. • Unbiased Opinion: Unbiased means f ree from bias and impartial. An opinion is a view or judgment from a personal point of view. I’ve often been accused of writing biased opinions, but it is impossible to have an opinion that isn’t biased through your point of view. It you have an opinion, it is based on your f eelings on the matter and can’t be impartial. • Journalism Student: Journalism is the writing of the news. A student is someone who attends classes and stud ies. It’s impossible to expect someone who spends his time writing news logo to class or study. 1 he term “journalism student” is an important oxymoron in my life. Karl Pallmeyer is a journalism grad- i/afe and a columnist The Battalion. Mail Cali Step in right direction EDITOR: Regarding the question of whether other universities require their seniors to take final exams (Audrey Henderson, April 21): In our experience, most universities beyond Highway 6 have senior finals, and have always had them. To us, exempting seniors from final exams is a novel concept. The nearest situation that we have observed has been when a professor chooses to make a final exam optional for those students with an A average. As to your wide-eyed disbelief about this “sudden” policy change, it seems that its implementation has been an ongoing process for the past three years and has been known to the student body. Don’t look at this situation as being “singled out as the first class to be burdened” by this change. Rather, look at it as a step for A&M to become a world-class university. Timothy Artlip, graduate student Charles Miller, Graduate Student Big bully! EDITOR: Last Sunday, something very interesting happened to me. I put my clothes in a dryer in the of hospital building about 10:30 p.m. and left. A few minutes later I returned only to find that all my clothes were gone. I thought, “Gee, someone must have taken them by mistake.” After talking to a few people, I realized that not only were my clothes deliberately stolen, but the guy who took them was too large to even wear them. At that time, I thought that this was the lowest and most uncool thing anyone could do. I was to be surprised again. Two hours later, my head resident found a pile of clothes by the trash cans of my dorm. At first, I thought that my clothes had been safely returned, but I soon realized that some of my clothes were still missing and the rest had been torn beyond repair. Even my socks had been ripped into fragments. This must have been some idiotic form of a joke as even my fabric softener sheet was gone and I could not finish drying these tattered remains without using another. I would greatly appreciate any information as to the whereabouts or whoabouts of this slime with legs. One half of my clothes are now either gone or unwearable and I do not have the money to replace them. Please call me at 260- 1270. If by chance, I did something to make this lowlife mad, I would appreciate it if he would work up the courage to confront me. It would save both of us a lot of trouble. (I am only 5’6” and 125 pounds.) Aaron Day ’89 Time to remember EDITOR: April 30, 1975, the day Saigon fell into communist control, marked the end of an era in American history. However, it was only the beginning of a nightmare for millions of Vietnamese, a nightmare that still continues today. The tyranny of the communists forced millions of Vietnamese to escape their homeland with little chance of survival. Only a slight glimmer of hope — hope of freedom — pushes them onwards toward the shores, the sea, and quite probably, death. However slim the chance, wave after wave of Vietnamese endured pain and persecution in their struggle to find a new life. Many were caught and killed by the communists. Others died of starvation, sickness, or drowned. Thousands upon thousands endured years of unhumanly crowded refugee camps, living wihout adequate food, water, or sanitation, hoping only for the day when they could move on in their search for freedom. Thousands of us were fortunate to end up in the United Slates, where we finally realized the freedom we longed for. We are grateful for the chance that the world has given us to restart our lives in a foreign land, but we still do not ! forget our brothers, sisters, and f amilies who remain, trapped beneath the communist reign in Vietnam. We often feel like dried leaves that have been blown from a dying tree, with a wind at our backs that pushes us farther and farther from our former home. Yet our hearts yearn for a shift in the wind that will return us to the foot ol the tree where we will he able to give back all that has been given us to nurture new life in I our new homeland. In honor, memory, and hope for our people, we would like to share some of our experiences, thoughts, and feelings about our homeland. We will be gathering in front of the Academic building Thursday, April \ 30. YVe welcome all to join us in the remembrance. Thanh C. Nguyen, Vietnamese American Student Association But do they ever study? EDITOR: I am a bowhead. My friends are bowheads. YVe go to Rocco’sand drink Coronas. YVe have class in Blocker and lots of other buildings, too. Some of us are Greek, some of us are not. YVe are not harmful to society. YVe used to wear jelly shoes and twister beads hut as the times have c hanged, so have our tastes. I’m sure in five years we ll look back and laugh that we were ./ bowheads. YVhat is wrong with fads such as this? Americans are very fashion conscious. Aggies obviously are not. I, for one, like a lit tle versatility now and then. The good thing about faefs is that they are quick to die. I think big bows will be out by the end of the year if not sooner and something else will take its place that Karl Pallmeyer can waste a few trees picking on. As for Randall Carter, I’m sorry he thinks we have labeled ourselves as “bitches.” 1 fiave never thought of myself as one, but 1 know if I ever met him I would not disappoint him. As for our being airheads in the days before bows, Pallmeyer, were you a nerd in the days before geeks. I know you just wrote it to get a rise out of us, and it worked. YY^e have just formed a local chapter of BOWS (Bowheads Organize When Slighted) and are accepting donations. Proceeds will go to a giant party with all the free Coronas you can drink. Sorry Pallmeyer and Carter, you’re not in vited. Victoria Larroca ’88 accompanied by six signatures Letters to the editor should not exceed 301) words in length. The editorial staff tt’ serves the right to edit letters for style and length, but will make every effort to main tain the author's intent. Each letter must be signed and must include the classifica tion^, address and telephone number of the ivriter.