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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (March 6, 1996)
Fighting mad Parking Services fines don’tfit the crimes j am hereby declaring war on the University of Nebraska’s Parking Services. In the past week, I have received two, count ‘em, two $25 parking tickets. If my calculus classes have served me correctly, that’s fifty smacks and a helluva lot of money. That’s 50, onc-dollar bills I could be giving Bobbie Balloons at BJ’s Hideaway or, as my editor pointed out, the price of a pap smear for his dog. Needless to say, I’m more than just fighting mad. I got these tickets because I’ve been parking in student lots without a valid university parking permit. You’re probably thinking: “Steve, you are an idiot,” to which I shall respond by ignoring you. I know that it was illegal, but I thought I had things under control. (I had hung a piece of toilet paper cunningly made to look like a permit from my mirror, but there’s no fooling these people.) As I was returning from lunch in the Union on Monday, I noticed a meter maid ticketing my truck, Kisatchic. Meter maids by the way, arc the Jowest form of vermin in the parking services hierarchy. There is no species genetically closer to a worm than a UNL meter maid. These people not only eat their young but are renowned for watch ing Beverly Hills 90210 for “educa tional purposes.” These people are not human. She went on to inform me that I already had been warned about parking in that lot, and I should have heeded the advice. I told her that she should have called me or mailed me a letter because no one bothers to read her Steve Willey “Meter maids by the way, are the lowest form of vermin in the parking services hierarchy. There is no species genetically closer to a worm than a UNL meter maid. ” crappy little tickets. It was then that she purposely plucked me on the nose and sug gested that I leave before she “accidentally” added a few extra zeros to my ticket. I was forced to cooperate despite my anger. I wasn’t angry because I had just been plucked on the nose by a woman wearing a helmet, but because of such an unjust fine. The students of UNL already pump so much money into this university that the big-wigs ought to be ashamed of issuing $25 tickets. And 25 dollars is nominal compared to some fines. Try parking in a handicapped stall, or worse yet, squatting naked in ASUN President Shawntcll Hurtgen’s spot. * You’ll get fined so extensively that you’ll have to sell your mother just to pay the monthly interest on your bill. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot we can do as students. If you don’t pay the fines, you won’t graduate. Fortunately for some, myself included, the statute of limitations on parking tickets is 30 years, which coincidentally, is about when I’m due to graduate. Am I the only student who feels betrayed by UNL? Doesn’t our tuition allow for at least a hundred dollars worth of free parking? What are they going to charge us for next? TO: UNL STUDENTS FROM: REGENTS WHO WANT YOUR FOOTBALL TICKETS RE: AIR “Effective immediately, the University of Nebraska will include a $75 increase in tuition. This increase will cover any and all air that you may happen to breathe while on UNL’s East or City campuses. Of course, all students have the right to waive this fee although you will waive, along with it, certain benefits such as oxygen. UNL strongly encourages you, however, to pay the $75 and breathe while on campus. Our researchers have found a direct correlation between students being alive and their ability to retain information.” I suppose all that is left for me is to concede defeat and pay my fines. I just want UNL Parking Services to know that 1 am personally going to rub my check on parts of my dog that even nuns would call “friggin’ gross.” War is Hell indeed, as I’m sure the poor souls at UNL Parking Services soon will be able to attest. Willey Is a junior ag-jouritalism major aad a Dally Nebraskan columnist Fat chance Cafeteria food makes eating healthy difficult Sclleck’s cafeteria is celebrating some kind of an “Eat healthy” week. Students arc reminded of eating vegetables and fruits five times a day, and they can test themselves with the “Fun and Funky Food Facts Challenge,” available at every table. I’m cynical about the “Eat healthy” week. Last semester, I made a serious, three-week-long attempt to eat healthy and lose some weight. I don’t want to say that it was impossible, because it by no means was, but it proved to be more difficult than would have been suitable. At breakfast, for example, I had to give up muffins, pastries, Boston cake, bacon, sausages and fried eggs, which all contain too much fat. What was left over was porridge, two or three kinds of cereals (the other 12 were frosted with sugar or honey or contained chocolate), cooked eggs and skim milk. There was, of course, sliced (usually white) bread but nothing to put on it because I didn’t want to use butter, peanut butter or jelly. There were two kinds of yogurt, but I’ve been told to avoid food additives, and the very pink color of the product seemed to imply that there were plenty of them. The good thing was that there were almost always some fresh fruits — because I wanted to reduce my daily calorics to 1400,1 simply couldn’t afford eating canned peaches and pineapples, often served in heavy syrup. Almost all of my Scandinavian friends who have stayed in North America for more than a few months have experienced a notable gain of weight and come back fatter than when they left. The average weight gain is around 15 pounds, and even those with high metabolism and an active lifestyle, such as a profes sional dancer and a gymnastics teacher-to-be, gain six to eight extra pounds. This applies to almost everyone, but especially people who have had their meals at campus or high school cafeterias. When I came to the United States, Veera Suplnen “7he ‘Eat healthy ’ week is paradoxical. Students are advised to eat right, but the system in cafeterias with bottomless ice-cream machines and soda automats, sometimes even candy boxes, makes it easier, and much more tempting, to eat unhealthy food. ” I noticed that it’s not only a Scandi navian syndrome, but that the same happens to many American fresh men. “Freshman 15” seems to be a rule at UNL. There is something wrong with the way food is served in cafeterias. When I tried to eat healthy and cut unnecessary salt and fat from my diet, the only food items I could “safely” eat were rice (always white and therefore lacking its highest nutritional value), vegetables and milk. The nutritional facts marked on some of the foods are very useful, but they often reveal that the food is prepared using too much oil, butter, cream or cheese. The number of calories from fat is surprisingly high, for example, in Chinese food, which is usually considered as low-fat and healthy. Any food guide pyramid or circle shows that our diet should consist mainly of vegetables, potatoes, rice or whole-grain bread and pasta, and that meat, fish or chicken should be used only as side dishes. Cafeteria food doesn’t meet these standards. Red meat in various forms is available in every lunch and dinner, whereas fish and chicken are not as abundant. A large amount of food is fried, which is no doubt the unhealthiest way to cook. The salad bar is good, but its location in Selleck’s cafeteria is psychologically unwise. A better place would be before the main dishes. Situated as it now is, far from the starting point, the vegetables of the salad bar are too easy to ignore when the tray already is filled with other food, including desserts. The “Eat healthy” week is paradoxical. Students are advised to eat right, but the system in cafeterias with bottomless ice-cream machines and soda automats, sometimes even candy boxes, makes it easier, and much more tempting, to eat un healthy food. A relatively small incident made the whole picture seem even more absurd to me. Yesterday, l received a letter addressed to my parents, which I opened with their permission. It was an offer from UNL Residence Hall Association for the “Energy Kit” to cheer up students during the final exams. The Kit contained, among other things, Yogolos Candy Chews, Planters Honey Roasted Peanuts, Ruger Vanilla Creme Wafers, Crunch ‘n Munch, Gummy Bears, Sweet-tarts, a lollipop and Peanut M&M’s. The idea is nice, but its practical application leaves much to hope for. When finals come, my parents are too far away to send me anything except encouraging e mails. But if they were nearer to me and felt a compelling need to show their love by sending me food, I would prefer having an apple. Suplnen Is a Junior history and Ameri can studies major and a Dally Nebraskan columnist Just a little spark can link all people WASHINGTON — Some times, a big lesson can be taught in a place as small as an airplane cabin. According to my husband, the four young, male passengers’ fresh faces, backward-turned caps and voluminous shirts made them seem like kids, like a million other baggy-uniformed youths. It was the young men’s behavior on the Washington bound flight that you couldn’t miss — loud guffaws, insults and fake-punching that Kevin later described as “cutting up.” Maybe the guys craved attention. Maybe they didn’t know any better. Either way, their floor show was exacerbated by the tight, box-like cabin — and by the Jack Daniel’s whiskey they’d purchased on the plane. Like other passengers, Kevin — whose job requires travel and who, therefore, has tolerated many rowdy vacationers, babies and drunks—watched with increasing annoyance. This time, he had an extra reason for discomfort. Kevin and the offensive foursome appeared to be the only black folks on the plane. The next day, when he described the scene to me, I was struck by what my husband didn’t say. He didn’t say he was embar rassed by the young men’s behavior. He didn’t say that he felt even slightly responsible for their rudeness. He didn’t express the belief that irritated white passengers held him—and all African Americans—account able. He didn’t have to. I assumed Kevin felt all those things, watching the men’s noisy performance. Many African Americans would have — even while realizing there’s no reason anyone should feel diminished by the misdeeds of strangers. How often do white people feel personally shamed by the petty or criminal acts of other whites? 1 o some, white kids misbe have because they are kids; black kids misbehave because they are black. Still, when the guys’ horsing around resulted in the jostling of other passengers, “I thought about saying something,” Kevin said. Reasons he didn’t: Six other adults seated closer to the foursome were studiously trying to ignore them; these days, even the most polite request for courtesy could invite a nasty response. Besides, it was the airline’s duty to shush the rowdy group. But oflen, blacks’ marrow deep feeling of connection to other blacks makes it feel like it is. My favorite example is: The silent prayer instantly offered by many upon hearing of a heinous crime: “I hope nobody black did it. ” But this is 1996. African Americans—whose attitudes and accomplishments are as diverse as Donna Britt “To some, white kids misbehave because they are kids; black kids misbehave because they are black. ” their skin shades — should be beyond such feelings. So what if those who see black America as a monolith say, “That’s how they ail are?” So what if each black misstep goads those who’d judge the law abiding black majority by a criminal or rude minority? What’s wrong with saying, “It’s tough enough being responsible for myself.”? Who is the self for whom we’re responsible? Can we afford to feel linked only to those whose boxes—whose race-gender wealth-sexuality —match ours? Once — not just in black America, but in all of America — the link felt larger. Then, misbe having children could be scolded by loving neighbors as well as parents. Most grown-ups would have had little compunction about telling those guys to hush. Folks knew that each unchallenged acceptance of rudeness made the planet less habitable for every body. It still docs. For blacks today, it matters less what “they” — meaning whites—think, and more that we respect ourselves enough to consider everyone’s comfort. l he times 1 ve stepped out ot my own comfort zone to politely ask someone to consider what his profane language or behavior suggests to kids, they’ve listened. Since the Million Man March, I’ve heard of increasing numbers of black men successfully asking other black men to refrain from negative, stereotype-perpetuating behavior. Black and white, male and female, rich and poor, we belong to each other. If the cliche “it takes a whole village to raise a child” is true, it will take all our courage to leave our separate boxes to create a village equal to the task. We can start small — in a place as tight as an airplane cabin. (C) 1996, Washington Post Writers Group Nitelutaiii MuCMWiai
