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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.
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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.