A White, Pulverulent Cascade – Canada Goose jacket on, Duck Boots laced, and fleece-lined khakis donned, the freshman gazed up at the mystical scene above him. Standing at the top of the Upper stairs, he looked out at where the skyline of Boston normally sits, barely visible through the opaque snowfall. The onslaught of powder mystified the distance between near and far, reducing the size of the world to the immediately recognizable. He traipsed on, disregarding the sting of cold as the individual flakes hit his face, taking in the uncanny silence that accompanies a snowstorm. Nature ensured that the trek to Mac would be a treacherous one, but it also forced him to ponder. The abounding blizzard rescinded abruptly as he swung open the door. He sat at the end of one of the long tables, peering out the window. Inside, the everyday worries of campus life were overwhelming. Outside, however, the snow would keep falling.
An Underground Cult – In the underbelly of Lyons Hall, the bottom dwellers of Boston College find their home. In masses they scurry across the brick tile, in pursuit most commonly of mac and cheese, short lines, and coffee that doesn’t suck. These proud rodents prefer a tranquil atmosphere to the traditional hustle and bustle of other on-campus dining halls. Here, the rush slows down, and the wooden accents adorning the walls allow for an escape from the contemporary. Grilled chicken breasts and faux wooden tables make way for newspaper reading, coffee, and contemplation. A sewer for equanimity.
No Bark No Bite – Eagles and Terriers alike descended upon TD Garden on Monday to witness what many humorously referred to as “The Pot of Beans.” The two student sections, towering high above the ice below, engaged in banter typical of the storied rivalry. One school in particular, however, chose to drop the ball on this matter. The Boston University students in attendance apparently decided that they would find the most irrelevant and corny jokes possible to scream that night. Upon hearing chants of “B-C Chi-pot-le!” ring out from the notably smaller sea of red and white across the stadium, those dressed in maroon and gold couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer irrelevancy pervading the air. Cheers of “B-C Ho-ckey!” reminded everyone at the game of the identity of one of the teams playing in the game, as if the audience had suddenly forgotten. Jealous of our storied alumni, the Terriers cried “F—k Matt Ryan!” forgetting that they’ve never had a quarterback play in the Super Bowl. It’s probably because they don’t have a football team. Sucks to suck.
Featured Image by Meg Dolan / Heights Staff