From Jason Brenner's "My 20 Inches," Fall '96 From Jason Brenner's "My 20 Inches," Fall '96Looking back on three years at Penn brings long-repressed memories to the surface. From Jason Brenner's "My 20 Inches," Fall '96Looking back on three years at Penn brings long-repressed memories to the surface.I can't believe it's happening to me. For the past three years, I've seen both friend and foe succumb to its savage brain-destroying power. Deep down, I always realized that I, too, would yield to its inevitable occurrence, but now that it's finally happened, I cannot accept it. Yes kids, the time has come. I've entered the -- dramatic pause -- senior year. Despite my embarrassing incident at that fine social establishment we've all come to know and love, I can say with total confidence that my most glaring moment of stupidity as a freshman occurred when I collected boxes from the center of the Quad on move-in day. I was angry because I lived in the center room -- also known as the common room -- of a three-room triple. I built a giant cardboard wall around my bed, dresser, and desk so I could have some privacy -- as if I really needed it. It's hard to believe, but I suppose I should now take stock of all the lessons I've learned over the past few years and discuss all the major changes in the University since I was a darling, little freshman. (No doubt about it, I was a cute kid.) I guess I should now do what senior citizens, war veterans, and washed-up child movie stars have been doing for decades: reminisce. Alcohol. When I was a freshman, kegs not only were allowed on campus, faculty members would stand outside of Stouffer Dining Commons and distribute them to students. Don't be surprised if you hear some misty-eyed seniors glamorizing their first year with such exaggerations. Nonetheless, please allow me to digress for a second to state my philosophy on kegs: "A keg is really nothing more than a giant can." Glad I got that out of the way. Anyway, now down to the real differences between the modern era and the days of yore. Living conditions. As a freshman, I lived in a tiny, unsanitary, overpriced room so graciously provided by the University. Now I live in a tiny, unsanitary, overpriced room so graciously provided by a slumlord. Fine dining, off campus. When I first came to Penn, the McDonald's on 40th Street was only held up at gunpoint a mere three times a month. Fine dining, on campus. Dining Services food was just about equally as incompatible with the gastro-intestinal system of the homo sapiens species as it is today. Elegant shopping areas. Way back when, Uni-Mart didn't have all that snazzy neon lighting that makes it so irresistible to hungry, thirsty and drunken students today. Unique wildlife. Whereas the turnover of businesses on Walnut Street (between 40th and 41st streets) has been tremendous, the turnover of panhandlers outside these shops has been non-existent. Maybe the owners of these stores should seek a bit of consulting advice from the guys who occupy the sidewalks outside their doors. Identification. As a freshman, I snuck into Murph's with a lame license that claimed I was a resident of Helena, Montana. As a senior, I sneak into Smoke's with a lame Maryland license that claims I'm a six-foot-one Arab guy named Imad. (Note that the picture of the handsome devil at the top of this column is actually that of a five-foot-nine Jew. Same difference.) As you can see, Penn is a far different place than it was when I was but a boy. For the past three years, the University has changed right under my oversized but charming nose. Despite the differences in our school today, I have resigned myself not to fight the inevitability of change. Allegro's Pizza will install a fancy new tile floor whether or not I want one. The Book Store will sell cosmetics. (Maybe I could use a touch of foundation.) The Penn basketball and football teams will continue to fall from their respective pedestals of glory. At some point, all of us -- with the exception of some defiant souls who have been Penn students since before the enactment of NATO -- must move on, but life at the University continues. Don't worry about me, though. I've accepted my destiny. I've decided to handle my transition from student to soon-to-be member of the "real world" with the utmost grace and maturity. If you're looking for me, I'll be at the American Legion bar, doing shots of Jack Daniel's and telling stories of my glory days.
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