“Play A Part In The Big Picture!”
An /W£C Presentation
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It’s Back, And It’s Better Than Ever!
January 21, 1996
2-6 RM. In The MSC Hallway
More Than 250 Organizations Will Be Represented
Entertainment And Other Events Planned
Organization Sign-Up Ends On January 18
PR
Sponsored by the MSC
Public Relations Committee
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Student Workers Wanted.
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Join the Food Services Team!
Student Employees are an important part of our work force and are valuable to our
efforts of providing the campus community with a quality dining service program.
Employment with the Department of Food Services is not “just a job”, but a
positive part of your university experience. We are proud of TAMU Food Services
and the contribution we make to the university. Come be a part of the team!
• Starting Pay Rate: $4.70 per hour.
• Work schedule revolves around class schedule.
• Daytime, Night & Weekend Hours Available
• Holidays off (Christmas, Spring Break)
• Convenient campus locations.
• Most student employees average 15 hours per
week, depending upon individual circumstances.
•Ag CaFe
845-6115
•LiT Bernies
847-9034
•Bernie’s Place
845-1641
•MSC Cafeteria/
845-1100
•Bus Stop Snack Bar
845-4590
I2th Man Burgers & Snacks
•Critical Care Cafe
863-3659
•Pavilion Sanck Bar
845-0682
(Vet School)
•Pie Are Square
845-9825
•Common Denominator
845-5183
•Rumors
845-1278
•Common Market
845-6193
•Sbisa Dining Center
845-2061
•Commons Dining Center
845-1842
•Time Out (Rec Center)
862-1374
•Food Services Commissary
845-3005
•Underground Food Court
845-8188
•Golf Course Snack Bar
845-2627
•Underground Market
845-2081
•Hullabaloo! Food Court
847-9464
•Zachry Snackiy
845-0270
For additional information call the
Department of Food Services Personnel Office at 845-3005.
Tuesday - Thursday
Apply now at the location of your choice or attend the
Food Services Job Fair
Friday, January 19, 1996
MSC Room 201 10 a.m. - 4 p.m.
Page 4 • The Battalion
Aggielife
Friday • January 19,1996
There's snow place like home
T he bliz
zard of
’96 that
recently hit
the Northeast
set many
records for
snowfall, tem
perature and
most of all,
headaches.
Schools were closed for several
days, roads were off-limits to
"non-essential" traffic, many mo
torists got into accidents due to
slippery roads and just as the fed
eral government was about to re
open, the weather kept it closed.
Many Americans heard about
it, read about it or saw the cov
erage on television, but I was
one of the people who had to ex
perience it.
I live in New Jersey, and the
blizzard of ’96 almost had severe
ramifications on my travel plans
of returning to Texas for the
spring semester.
Here is a breakdown of my
three days in the blizzard of ’96.
Sunday, 8 a.m:
The snow begins to fall on the
sleepy town of Pitts town, NJ.
There had been weather re
ports of a coming storm, and pre
dictions varied from 6-20 inches,
so nobody knew what to expect.
Sunday, 2 p.m:
There are now six
inches of snow on
the ground with no
end to the storm in
sight. TV stations
are showing nothing
but reports of the
huge storm that is
over us. Highways
are being shut down, and I won
der if I will still fly out of Newark
on Tuesday.
Monday, 9 a.m:
The snow finally stops, leav
ing behind 30 inches of fresh
powder in my yard. My brothers’
eyes lit up when they saw the
prospect of almost a whole week
without school. Dad looked out
at the snow, now drifting up to
the level of the windows, and
thought about how he was going
to plow it. Then he looked at us
and told us to dress warmly and
shovel the 200-foot-long drive
way. He solved that problem.
Monday, 10 p.m:
I’m up in my room packing for
my 12:15 Tuesday flight that I’m
sure will get canceled. Airports
are saying they won’t open until 6
p.m., while my airline insists my
flight will leave on time. We de
cide there can be no harm in get
ting to the airport a few hours
early and see what’s going on.
Tuesday, 6:30 a.m:
We hit the road for Newark.
The roads were not as bad as we
had expected— they were worse.
The snowplows tried to clear
the roads, but workers figured
one lane would be sufficient for
safe travel.
Luckily, there wasn't anyone
coming the other way and we
drove to the end of the road be
tween snow drifts as high as
four feet.
Tuesday, 9 a.m:
Before I walked through the
doors, I saw a guy get arrested
for trying to skip his cab fare.
Welcome to Newark. I get in
the check-in line behind 10 peo
ple. One hour later, the same
10 people are in front of me,
and I turn around to see about
100 behind me.
Tuesday, 11:30 a.m:
We were in the line for two-
and-a-half hours before we were
told the airline was having
slight delays.
When people found out the air
line's six scheduled flights for the
day had to be cut down to two,
they were measuring their kids to
see if they would fit in the over
head luggage compartments.
Luckily, my flight was one of
the two picked, and I was guaran
teed a spot on the plane.
1 took my ticket and carefully
walked to the gate, aware of the
dirty looks I was getting from the
standby line.
The plane begins to board and
leaves at 3:30 p.m. I have not
seen any more snow or even had
to wear a jacket since then.
My parents heard about the
weather in Texas and were envi
ous of it. There is no rest for the
weary, however, because two
more inches fell earlier in the
week and about eight fell over
the weekend.
I wonder if my brothers are
done shoveling yet.
Jonathan Faber is a junior
finance major.
Football strengthens father-son relationship
Alex
Walters
Columnist
T here were
times when I
wished I didn’t
have a father.
When I was grow
ing up, I blamed my
dad and his explosive
emotions for my surre
al childhood.
After so many phys
ical confrontations, the ideal
childhood for me became a fanta
sy where I was growing up with
just my mother. My mother was
the one who comforted me after I
fought with my dad.
After my parents finally sep
arated over a year ago, it be
came important to me that my
father knew I cared about him.
I really did care about my
dad as a person, but talking to
him on the phone felt a lot like
doing community service to pay
for a speeding ticket.
Those conversations eventu
ally came down to something
that seemed rather trivial at
the time — football and the
Dallas Cowboys.
Then, over the phone, it all
came rushing back.
The football experience. The
Budweiser Clydesdales, cold
weather and Dad asking me to
come and watch the game with
him on the big-screen television.
It seems somewhat absurd to me
now because my rational mind
tells me that
beer commer
cials should not
be the stuff of
nostalgia.
But, some
times, that’s all
we had.
I was raised
on Drew Pear
son, Tony Dorsett, Danny White
and the king of them all, Roger
Staubach. Conversations over
Sunday lunch centered on how
touchdowns were not key to a
win, but first downs.
I started to remember that,
as a child, I would sit in my fa
ther’s burly arms and watch
the football stars that became
my heroes. I remember how we
would scream like banshees at
each and every touchdown, in
terception and fumble.
Now, as an adult, when I am
confronted by the loneliness of
what my life can be at times, the
football memories of my childhood
seem to soothe me.
When the Cowboys win, I call
my dad and we talk about the
playoffs. When they lose, Dad and
I talk about who didn’t play well,
who was hurt or what coach was
n’t pulling his weight.
As I grow older, I realize I
am becoming something my fa
ther is proud of. Dad always
comes to town to see the the
ater that I’m involved with, and
he always saves copies of my
articles and poems.
He may not understand all of
the poems, but he tries harder
now to be close to me than I ever
tried for him.
When I didn’t get the intern
job that I’d really wanted at the
Boston Globe, my dad just smiled
and said that my talent would,
someday, take me somewhere.
Those words from my dad were at
once soothing and inspiring.
In this stage of life, after all
the changes Dad and I have
been through, I find myself
looking forward to our Sunday
phone conversations.
The talks are no longer just
about football. Now, we talk
about the newspaper business,
theater and my other passions.
Dad and I talk about anything
and everything, just to hear the
sound of each other’s voice.
1 realize more and more
every day that I am forever
thankful for my father. I love
him dearly and am exceedingly
proud of who he is.
Next time the Cowboys play,
the phone will bo in its position
beside my easy chair so that I can
talk to Dad between touchdowns.
Alex Walters is a junior jour
nalism and theater arts major.
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4 “Street Sounds is both inspiring and |
spirited. A sound the world can embrace.” i
—Pete Seeker, vocalist.
Thursday, January 25
8:00 p.m.
Rudder Auditorium
Gospel, jazz, rap, rhythm and
blues, civil and human rights
songs, African chants, doo-wop,
traditional and contemporary
rhythms and sounds.
An innovative variety for all
to enjoy!
Tickets are on sale at the MSC Box Office-TAMU, or
charge by phone at 845-1 234. New extended Box
Office hours include Sat. 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
8 Now accepting Aggie Bucks™
S t
Persons with disabilities please call 845-8903 to inform us of your special needs. Ws request notification three (3) working days prior to the event to enable us to assist you to the best of our ability.
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rtifjfyfjtrtt Society
http://www msc.tamu.edu/msc/opas/opas.html
opas@tamu.edu