column: Quad Day: hot, sweaty, just like Friedman’s book

For all of you upperclassmen coming back for Quad Day on Sunday, welcome back. You know the drill, so I have no great insight for you.

For those who might be experiencing their first Quad Day (freshmen, transfer students, perplexed out-of-towners stumbling around campus for some reason), you might find that it’s a lot like New York Times columnist Thomas L. Friedman’s most recent book on globalization and green energy: hot, flat and crowded.

Though you’re a bit less likely to find someone on the Quad as heavily mustached, turtle-necked and unintentionally hilarious as Mr. Friedman, you’ll probably be able to find just about everything else: unicycles, jousting in medieval garb, love proclamations for October and yodeling enthusiasts probably.

I’m telling you. It’s all there (see: Alissa Groeninger’s column. It has some actual figures, and from what I hear, some kind of “Breakfast Club” reference). Picture a Fourth of July parade, then add some horticulturist ninjas, and at least a thousand more pamphlets.

But though the diversity of the groups and picturesque setting (see: front page. Nothing screams “new college experience” like an aerial of Quad Day) might be worth checking out, I’d like to reiterate: It’s bound to be 95 degrees; you’re bound to be sweaty; and some of it may not even be your own sweat.

For all of you who may be passionately pro-Quad Day despite the conditions, I ask, “Do you like seeing all the cool things you’ll inevitably miss out on during the year?” I, for one, do not.

Now, some of my ire may stem from feeling jilted in previous years. I love table tennis, and I’m sure there’s a group of table tennis enthusiasts with a great organization somewhere out there. But I’ve never been able to find them. Not even with a map.

I’ve also never seen an organization that specializes in producing or dispersing comically oversized props. To me, there’s almost nothing funnier. Think about the novelty of taking notes in class or at an office meeting with a 4-foot-tall pencil. Hysterical.

But who am I kidding? As much as I dismiss it, as much as I’m annoyed by the crowds and the heat and the pushing and the sad realization that I’ll probably never be able to commit to the Coffee Club or go skydiving, I’ll probably be walking around checking it out on Sunday like most of you.

If nothing else, I can stock up on free golf pencils or pizza coupons.

It’s better than reading Thomas L. Friedman all day.

Andrew is a junior in LAS.