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The Battalion • Page 9
■ Monday • October 10, 1994
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ERIN
HILL
I looked in the mirror and
thought that it was a bit too
short. A bit on the short
side. Definitely a miniskirt.
Erin Hill is a senior English major
UNEMPLOYMENT
offrce
O h sure, they happen to
everyone. I am not the
only one who has
I experienced embarrassing
moments. Just the other
| night a roommate and I
j entertained ourselves
remembering all of the
embarrassing things that
had happened to our friends
over the years.
“Once this guy fell asleep in class and woke up drooling on
the desk.”
“Oh, ha ha, my teacher lectured with an open fly.”
“Hee hee, someone walked out of the bathroom with toilet
paper stuck to his shoe.” (The banter continues.)
“Oh get this — I know a guy who tripped while accepting
his diploma, and took the superintendent down with him.”
“No,” I interrupt. “I can top them all. Once my best friend
tucked her skirt into her tights on accident and walked
through the cafeteria during the lunch hour, and everyone
could see her backside. Some of our friends actually stopped
her in the hall and told her she might want to check her skirt.”
I am chuckling hard now. “‘Check her skirt’ — cam you
believe that? She probably wanted to do more than check her
skirt. She probably wanted to duck into the nearest locker for
a couple of days. I mean,someone besides her mother got
to see her behind. Oh, the insult of it all.”
I laughed and laughed and laughed at my poor friend’s
plight. Here it is, five years after the event and I am still
telling the story. It was the epitome of embarrassment.
Until last week that is.
Oh, I knew my dress was too short. I had a premonition
about it even before I wore it. I remarked to several friends
that I ought to buy some leggings to wear under my new
purchase. But did I wait? Nooo, I insisted on wearing it with
just a T-shirt.
Even after I put it on, I knew. I looked in the mirror and
thought that it was a bit too short. A bit on the short side.
Definitely a miniskirt. I knew it. Yeah, no excuses. A reeaaly
short dress is what I had on.
But I had no idea of the powerful deja vu I was about to
experience.
Let’s back up a moment, shall we?
I exited the Reed McDonald Building at approximately
noon and stopped at the Bus Stop Snack Bar on the comer of
Ireland and Ross to
chat with my
friend. I remarked
to him that my
dress was too short.
He said he hadn’t
noticed.
I stepped onto
the mall in front of
the Chemistry building and headed toward the MSC. I passed
I' the Harrington Building and the Academic Building and had
almost cleared Nagle when my world went into slow motion.
I saw her out of the comer of my eye. What does she want, I
wondered? Why is that girl chasing me down the sidewalk?
She is mouthing something at me. Oops, I took my Walkman
out of my ears.
“What did you say?”I asked her.
“You might want to check your skirt.”
Might want to check my skirt? I exited slow motion into an
accelerated mode. My hands reached back to touch the hem of
my dress and instead felt only part of the T-shirt I was
wearing under my jumper. Where cloth should have been,
there was nothing.
My backpack was off in a matter of seconds and I located
the back of the dress. It was tucked under my heavy backpack
and had been inching its way toward my neck since I stepped
across Ross Street.
“I feel like such a loser, but thanks. Yeah, thanks a
million!” I said to her.
“Sure, no problem,” she remarked and ran in the opposite
direction. She wasn’t even going my way. She had spotted me
from across campus and decided she must halt my absurd trek
toward my class. I have got to stop that girl — she is making
a total fool of herself, she thought.
Stop me she did, thankfully before I entered the MSC,
where lunchtime crowds make the New York Stock
Exchange’s throng of people seem like a couple of guys
shopping for a pig at a farm auction.
Too bad she didn’t reach me before those gawkers did. I
wondered why three normal looking guys were staring at me
and laughing.
At the time, I figured they thought my dress was too short.
Now I realize that they were wondering if I was even wearing
a dress. Or wearing anything at all.
My friend will surely find poetic justice in this. Something
along the lines of “She who laughs hardest will someday
expose herself to people too.”
We trip and learn.
v v.-..
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•ir
The Battalion
Editorial Board
Belinda Blancarte, Editor in chief
Mark Evans, Managing editor
lay Robbins, Opinion editor
Jenny Magee, Assistant opinion editor
Editorials appearing
ct the views of '*
do not necessarily i
er Battalion staf
student body,
or staff.
Columns, guest columns, cartoons and
letters express the opinions of the authors.
Contact the opinion editor for informa
tion on submitting guest columns.
Coming Out Week
Aggies should strive for tolerance, support
There’s a whole new
world outside A&M
Studying abroad teaches student to
appreciate value of being 'home'
I
JAMES A.
BERNSEN
Guest
Columnist
National Coming Out Week begins
today. The event will be celebrated
across the nation, as well as here at
tolerant and at best supportive of those
who choose to “come out.”
Prejudice against those who have dif
ferent sexual preferences is no better
than
racism or
sexism.
Homosex
uals and
bisexuals
are just
two more
groups
that are
strug-
gling to
gain ac
ceptance in a society that tends to
discriminate against those who
don’t fit into the so-called “norm.”
Understandably, many homo
sexual and bisexual people fear
coming out. Often times homosex
uals and bisexuals are assaulted
both verbally and physically when
they choose to express their sexual
persuasion to their community.
This kind of intolerance shows
nothing but ignorance.
Many people are extremely unin
formed on the topic of homosexuality.
Some common myths are that homosex
uality is a disease, and that all homo
sexuals Eire out to try to convert others.
That simply is not true.
Homosexuality is not a disease and
no one can catch it. The purpose of Na
tional Coming Out Week is not to con
vert heterosexuals, but to provide an op
portunity for people to openly admit
their homosexuality with the support of
other people taking the same risk.
— Homosexuals and bisexuals are just
like anyone else. The only difference is
their sexual preference. Homosexual
and bisexual persons are everywhere.
They hold positions is every profession
and are present in every ethnic and
racial group.
The best way for heterosexuals to ob
serve this week is to open their ears,
eyes and mind. Support those who are
different that you are. It’s a concept
called diversity.
A&M has often come under fire for
its closed-mindedness. This is an oppor
tunity to dispel that myth along with all
the others about homosexuality.
Coming out
can be a very dif
ficult process for
homosexuals and
bisexuals. Far
too often, many
are afraid to even
acknowledge
their sexual pref
erence in fear of
repercussions
from society.
This week is
an opportunity for homosexuals and bi
sexuals to openly come to grips with
their sexual persuasion. If a person is
brave enough to make that difficult step,
then they at least deserve to receive ba
sic decency from their fellow Aggies.
People of all kinds should be able to
celebrate what they are, and no one
should infringe upon that right. If you
can’t open your heart, fine — but at least
open your mind.
‘t took me a couple of
seconds to do the math.
.Two. . .no—$2.20. For a
newspaper? ForU.S.A.
Today? All I wanted was the
A.P. Sports Polls!
Such is the lot of the
international traveler. It
bothered me that the Aggies
had played their first game over two weeks before and, I —
being 4,000 miles away — had no idea how it went. In the
small German university town of Tubingen, even finding an
American paper was hard. And then they rip you off.
More than anything, that 3.5 Deutsch Marks I paid and'
the realization of the dollar value it represented brought "
me down to earth and cured me of an illness most travelers
suffer from — I call it Monopoly Money Syndrome.
The first week some part of my mind was laughing the
whole time as these fools gave me good food for these ...
cartoon bills and coins. But $2.20? That’s robbery!
Americans tend to be blinded to the rest of the world. L
mean, even when you buy a clock that says, “Made in
Taiwan,” you still don’t even think about what that means.'
It’s just this nebulous place “out there” that we don’t like
to think about.
It could say “Made on Mars” and would make no difference. ;
If you haven’t been there, how do you know it exists?
Traveling abroad, especially studying abroad, which I’m
doing for a year, is like being on another planet. Every
morning I wake up and realize to my shock and horror that
I’m surrounded by 50,000 people who have never been to a
football game, never drunk a Dr. Pepper — never played 42
at the Chicken.
Call me naive, but I always assumed these were universals.
Doesn’t everybody have a bonfire gene in their chromosomes?
Can people really exist without Wal-Mart?
Food is different. TV is different. Toilets—good heavens!
How can they be different? And this is WESTERN Europe,
the same country my ancestors came from. How different
then are Asia, Africa, the Middle East? Some things. I’ll
admit, are better
over here. It’s
great to be able to
take a weekend
excursion to the
local 15th Century
castle. You just
can’t do that in
College Station.
I'm surrounded by 50,000 >
people who have never been
to a football game, or played
42 at the Dixie Chicken.
Mail
c
ATT
Racist music taints spirit
of Bonfire, student unity
As I waiting for a parking spot in the Zachry
lot on Oct. 5, I was disturbed by the loud music
coming from the Bonfire site. To my displeasure,
the three songs I heard were about “niggers.”
These songs had lyrics like “move them niggers
North,” “we don’t like niggers,” and a new defini
tion of “NAACP’ reverberated off of homes, busi
nesses, etc. and pierced the very soul of my be
ing. The songs ended as I approached the field
and saw a guy working on Bonfire. I inquired
where I could find a redpot or the person in
charge of the music. There was a large guy in
the crowd forming a half circle in front of me who
leaned past me to ask his coworker what my
“problem” was. I told him I wanted to know the
meaning of the songs about “niggers” played a
few minutes earlier. He acted like he didn’t
know what I was talking about, but he led me to
a redpot who said he was sorry and pulled the
tape out himself.
I also wondered if this incident is part of the
spirit of Aggieland. If not, where is it represent
ed? Is it the redpot who tried to right a wrong he
did not create, or the guy from the crowd who
didn’t know what I was talking about? Or is it
the crowd that was forming around me ready to
react to my actions rather than respond to my
question?
Surely something should be done about this
blatant display of racism, but what? The Corps,
itself teaches that discipline is the tool that
makes punishment unnecessary, but when pun
ishment is necessary, what form is appropri-
ate?What can we do to heal this object that is no
longer a beauty mark, but a festering sore on the
face of Aggieland?
Steven S. Sims
Class of ’92
Threats, vulgarity ruin
the meaning of tradition
Every single week at football games and yell
practices, phrases like “Show some f— respect,
this is a f— war memorial!” echo through Kyle
Field. If the people who say these words be
lieve that Kyle Field is a memorial, why would
they dishonor it by screaming obscenities?
Would these people do the same at a funeral?
A&M has many fine traditions, but when
they are followed only under threat of physical
harm, one has to wonder about the value of those
traditions. Use “uncover” to remind fellow Ags
that a yell is in progress. Use it again to remind
fellow Ags of the hat he forgot he was wearing.
Let it end there. Please don’t make this fine tra
dition appear to be a marshall law by harassing
those who choose to wear head gear.
Remember also that this tradition is an Aggie
tradition. Instead of harassing visitors to our
University, impress them with a massive show of
hospitality and spirit.
Finally, while I’m on my soap box, I would
like to ask why the horrible death of Texas
Tech’s mascot is cause for jokes by our yell lead
ers. The yell leaders’ jokes and the crowds’ corre
sponding whoops were crude and in poor taste.
Martin Leifker
Class of ’95
The Battalion encour
ages letters to the editor and
will prim as many as space
Letters must be 300
words or less and include
the author's name, class.
We reserve the right to
edit letters for length, style,
and accuracy.
Address letters to:
The Battalion - Mail Call
013 Reed McDonald
Texas A&M University
College Station, TX
77843-11T1
Fax:
409/845-2647
8att@tamvml .tamu.edu
And you don’t need a car here — buses are cheap,
efficient and clean. You wakeup with a postcard for a
window. And despite having about four times as many
people as Texas crammed into half the space, they have
still found a way to preserve vast forests.
But to do that, everyone is squeezed into compact and
oppressively overpopulated cities. And those buses? You , ’ u -
need them because there just isn’t room for everyone to
have a car.
And what about all those social services they enjoy that
Bill Clinton likes to point to? They also enjoy a tax rate
that would make Vlad the Impaler look like a
compassionate guy.
But some things are just the same. When you sneeze,
they all say “Gesundheit” — just like back home. Gummi *
Bears are just the same. And of course, everyone here
wants to be rich and buy a Mercedes-Benz or a nice BMW. ^
Oh well, as I sit here listening to a tape of the
Oklahoma game, straining to hear the Aggie Band over - -
Dave South, wondering why in hell Bucky Richardson was-
starting for the Oilers, I can’t help but be a little homesick.”., .
There are stories to write at the Batt, classes to sleep
through and a bonfire to build. And all I have as a lifeline -
to that world I know are these static-filled tapes and a . .
$2.20 newspaper. : „r-7
Perhaps once I get to meet the other college students ;
here, I will find those things that are the same across ••
cultures. Because whatever language you speak and
customs you have, students are still students and people
are still people. Perhaps I’ll meet a nice German girl ... If
I’m really lucky, I might even find one who shaves her
armpits. f-j..
Adios! Auf wiedersehen! Hasta la Schnitzel! .‘7 C
James A. Bemsen is a senior German and joumalisrh
major studying at the University of Tubingen
II
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