Now that May marks my last full month of writing for The Aggie, expect this column and perhaps one or two more to be filed under the “Sentimental Thoughts of an Impending Graduate/Retiring Columnist” folder. Although I know this might seem early because I have a couple of weeks to spare before the end is near, I figured I’d spread the nostalgia around and not subject you minions to three consecutive weeks of my sudden wistfulness for my undergraduate years.
I am ashamed to admit that it took me a while to enjoy our little quaint town of Davis. I came from the semi-bustling town of San Jose and I ended up going here because I got turned away from Berkeley and Los Angeles (yeah, ouch). Since I thought that a fast-paced metropolitan city was the best environment for me and I bought into the rumors that Davis was slow, came with nothing to do and smelled like cows, I was convinced my affections would never roll around (what a fool I was).
But now you must forgive my naiveté because all I want to do is give Davis a big hug and my gratitude because it’s quite the awesome place. In fact, I believe it’s the only town where within one night, you can find parking on a sidewalk for free, walk to an ATM to get cash, walk to a bar to get drunk, walk to a Jack in the Box to get food and sober up, not be mugged this entire time and then drive back home with no one to answer to.
Given, because I want to always think back on Davis fondly, I don’t want to be here forever for fear of getting sick of it. Sort of like how Vegas is called the “48 Hour City,” because if you stayed any longer, all you’d want to do is shoot your eyes out and GTFO.
So here’s my toast to you, Davis, where my four years here have left me wondering how many papers I’ve written, how many cute guys have refused to talk to me and how many STDs I have given out as midnight surprises (I’m estimating about 78 in each category).
Not only am I thankful to you for housing my entire college experience and all that entails (living without the parents, meeting new people, going out, etc.), you’ve also served as my personal sanctuary when things were getting a little too heavy at home.
I am also grateful that you revolve around my academic schedule. Indeed, I can go buy groceries and a Safeway cashier (whom I’ve never met before), will wish me good luck on my midterms, or a bus driver will tell me to have a great first day of school as if he were my father himself, incognito. And just as you are as quiet as I need you to be during finals, you also have your few magic nights throughout the year when everyone in town will want to get as “hip wit‘ it” as me (i.e.: The first Thursday of a new quarter, the last Friday before Spring Break).
Let us also not forget the magic that is Picnic Day. That one orgasmic day of the year when the whole town begins to buzz, the buses are literally shaking and chanting with anticipation the day of, and no one gets to judge you for drinking in public (and even if you are being drunkenly obnoxious, a genuine “Happy Picnic Day!” will usually allow others to forgive you). And to those who think it is overrated, fear not. You probably just celebrated it incorrectly (ahem, freshmen) and you should try it differently next year.
And bless thy mean cuisine: for your average-tasting pho restaurant that holds a monopoly over every homesick Vietnamese student; for your easy-to-miss hotdog stand that tastes so good, I never question the $5 I happily fork over every time; for your handful of delicious Thai restaurants that I can never get enough of (but seriously, why are there so many?!); and for your tasty Chipotle burritos that are so big, they make me feel like I’m eating a small baby.
Lastly, I am incredibly indebted that you have provided me with a newspaper that is not only powered by such amazingly talented people who somehow liked my opinion enough to hire me, but also with a great readership who for some fortunate reason, allows this romantically-doomed-but-never-too-jaded girl to spill her heart out (not to mention her frustrations and absolutely useless observations) every week. For this, I cannot thank you enough.
LYNN LA is bummed because she can’t remember where that one tire swing that was tied to that one tree over that one lake near Davis was and she doesn’t want to leave this town without bringing her friends there. If you know where it is, please oh please e-mail her at email@example.com.