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
