The scene of the crime.

Bet you didn’t think I could go back to this well again did you? But everyone knows trilogies are for wusses (I’m looking at you Brickley) so without further ado I’ll close the book on this enchanting journey through social awkwardness at Penn, the erstwhile “social Ivy”.

Of course the scenario I’m about to explore isn’t just relegated to Penn’s campus, but nobody’s ever accused me of being afraid to tackle national issues.

The issue at hand of course is the ominous morning after. Not sure what I’m talking about? Let me paint you a picture.

It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. You head over to Izzy and Zoe’s for a hangover cure and take your place in line at the corner of 40th and Pine. Your brain’s functions are hazy and the sun is blinding, but up in the distance you spot a familiar face–your paramour from the previous night. In the shroud of darkness and beer goggles you shared a night of passion. Now you’ve been reunited, only sober and under much less flattering light.

The same question asked so diligently throughout the course of this four part series gnaws at your brain: what do you do? One option is to summon whatever energy you have left in your nutrient depleted body to engage in a conversation that will probably be as strained as an Amy Gutmann public speaking engagement. Or, alternatively, you could just avoid eye contact and take stock of your sneakers.

There’s no easy answer, my dear Blogsbe Nation. Ultimately, you have to suck it up and attempt some sort of conversation, no matter how brief. At the very least, it’s to show you aren’t ashamed to acknowledge what happened (even if you are) and respect the feelings of last night’s hook-up. You could even be starting a real relationship based not just on alcohol-fueled hormones, but meaningful communication and connection. Or not. But, maybe they’ll let you cut in line, and isn’t that worth all the awkwardness in the world?

Editor’s Note: Check out the first three installments of “Well…that was awkward” here,
here and
here.

If the ancient eight are the deities on the shrine of US News and World Report and Princeton Review, you might call Loren Pope an atheist. Pope, profiled , in the New York Times this week has been working as an independent college counselor since 1965. She wrote two books you probably won’t find on the dark wooded coffee tables in Penn’s admissions office: Looking Beyond the Ivy League and Colleges That Change Lives,.

Described in the article as a man whose “been bucking convention nearly all his life,” Pope sings the praises of collegiate underdogs like Hiram College, Rhodes College, Clark University, among others. Meanwhile he decries Ivy League schools and other generally well-respected universities:

“Asked if a student could get a good education at Harvard or Yale, he said, “I think you’d have to work harder for it” because the professors are more focused on their research and it is harder to get to know them.

He is skeptical about why students and parents pursue admission to brand-name colleges. “I think all they are thinking about is status,” he said.”

While the idea behind Pope’s philosophy and life’s work is admirable I still feel compelled to argue on behalf of Dear Old Penn. I agree that students, parents and universities are preoccupied with rankings, status and elitism. But Pope paints his picture of the college landscape with an incredibly broad brush. Penn’s professors, still offer amazing resources and opportunities for students even while busy with original research. And Penn’s career services office is among the best in the country in helping students find internships and post-grad employment, the ultimate goal (and value) of a Penn degree one might argue.

Northeast Ohio: “A great place to live and work.” (www.homeschoolfriendlycolleges.com)

Just as Penn isn’t for everyone, neither are Pope’s favorites. For one, many of them are in rural settings, and while West Philly has its problems I’ll take it any day over Hiram’s Northeast Ohio. Choosing Pope’s underrated, intimate college settings ultimately come at a cost whether its sporting events, a diverse student body (According to Princeton Review’s web site Rhodes College is known by many simply as “the country club”) and world-famous faculty. The college students of tomorrow shouldn’t dismiss the schools Pope champions, but they also shouldn’t write off Penn and the other colleges that Pope does so eagerly.

Since I began Well…that was awkward, a multi-part series investigating socially awkward encounters at Penn, I’ve been inundated with responses, both hateful and complementary. A few even came from outside my family (I respect your disagreement Grandma, but I wish you wouldn’t use that language). Today, I march on with an examination of classroom awkwardness.

At one time or another we’ve all walked into a lecture completely alone. No roommates. No teammates. No frat brothers. Scanning the hall you look for a familiar face. As you stand there, channeling Forrest Gump’s first bus ride to school, you spot someone. It’s your freshman hall mate/ high school classmate/ bunkmate from Camp Firewood. Now what do you do? Months, maybe years separate your last conversation from today.

You now face a choice: Either, pretend you don’t see your long-lost acquaintance at the risk of being exposed as the coward you are, or just grab a seat and prepare for some classic patently awkward Penn small talk. At least you won’t be sitting alone for those crucial interim minutes before lecture. It would be a shame if you had no one to share those snide quips that spontaneously roll off your tongue over the course of the semester when your professor does/says something stupid.

It may seem like a lose-lose situation, but it doesn’t have to be. In college people are changing at rapid speed. It’s okay if you and your old colleague don’t have much in common. You might be even surprised how much you have to talk about. In the end, it’s better than sitting in silence or trying to make small talk with someone you don’t even know. Now that would be awkward.

Ther ambition and work ethic of people around me struck me as soon as I transferred to Penn. At UCSB most of our energy was expended finding new ways to get drunk. But while I admire the diligence and drive of my fellow Quakers, sometimes I wonder if they know how to turn it off.

Imagine this scene at a party. Actually, you probably don’t have to imagine it, you probably lived it. In line for access to the keg, “patiently” waiting for that Beast Light ambrosia and you overhear, “I’m so pissed. I can’t believe I didn’t get that alternate interview at Merrill Lynch.”

It’s a Saturday night. No classes today. No classes tomorrow. It’s time to unwind from the week and forget about all the work we’ll be doing Sunday. Why kill the high with the I-banking?

You run into that acquaintance from Psych class or Club Tennis at the bar. Silence…you’re at a loss for words. The only way to fill the void is with a rundown of classes and all the work you have to do. It’s a classic way to fight the awkwardness, but let me tell you, it’s not working.

Here and now I’m mobilizing the Blogsbe Nation. Go out there and change the way Penn socializes. This Saturday night, classes, jobs, and work are taboo. Talk about TV, movies, books, the weather, sports or God forbid politics. It’s college, get it?

Editor’s Note: Miss Part I? Check it out “The Locust Walk Hit and Run” here.

There aren’t words…

The Daily Pennsylvanian lost a good man this weekend. After seven months blogging and another four writing columns, Stephen Morse finally succumbed after a long battle with facts, journalistic principles and people in general.

As a columnist last Spring, Morse took on discrimination towards broad definitions of sexual harassment in the university’s handbook on the subject and other hot topics.

As a Spin blogger his ambition (and notoriety) only grew. After attending a Darfur rally he asked the question, why aren’t more African Americans doing more for their brothers and sisters in Darfur? Later he tackled an odd smell in Logan Hall and a hazardous crosswalk at 33rd and Locust.

Morse achieved cult celebrity status, at one point garnering his own tag on Penn alum authored blog Philadelphia Will Do, written by Daniel McQuade. In December he was even named one of a Philadelphia Will Do’s People of the Year.

And yet after his brief but illustrious career, Morse came to epitomize that epithet made famous by Kurt Cobain, “It is better to burn out than fade away.”

In Morse’s final moments as a blogger he took on those bastions of corruption, the Preceptorial Committee and the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board.

Unfortunately for Morse and those subscribing to his cult of personality, while the details are hazy (and privileged) one thing is sure: Morse is no longer with us.

Morse, you were the O’Reilly to my Colbert, my inspiration, nay the wind beneath my wings. The Blogsbe Nation mourns your departure from this blog, but feels confident that you’ve moved on to a better place.

P.S. For those wondering the betting line for impetuses behind Morse’s departure was as follows: Amy Gutmann 3:2, Black Student Union 4:1, Students Taking Action Now: Darfur 7:2, Bob Casey 10:1, Dan “D-Mac” McQuade 13:1, Dan Savage 25:1.

Editor’s note: While Stephen Morse will no longer be blogging for The Spin, new pieces by Morse will still be available in 34th Street. “Well…that was awkward” will continue on Thursday.

Locust Walk: the ultimate danger zone. (American Radio Works)

While Penn students are forced to make peace with Penn State mix-ups and “safety school” stigmas, one area we all take pride in is our reputation as the “social Ivy.” It’s the one title not even Harvard or Princeton can take from us. Still, I wonder if our reputation as the Ivy League’s answer to the party school might be a touch inflated. And I wonder if our title as the “social Ivy” might need some qualification. More and more I’ve come to think of Penn as the socially awkward Ivy.

This week we’ll examine the Locust Walk Hit and Run.

“When I think about Penn being awkward,” College senior Jen Jablow explains, “is the situation where you’re walking down the street and you see someone and you both clearly know you know each other from a class freshmen year or something, but you both just avoid eye contact.”

It’s a situation we’ve all been in, but can’t exactly explain why. Maybe Penn students just have better things to do with their time than make small talk. In the case that we do pursue these conversations, more often than not they devolve and discomfit quickly. At that point it’s a game of conversational chicken to see who’s first to bring up an excuse (”Well this Netflix DVD ain’t gonna mail itself”) and make their escape.

Then again, sometimes it wouldn’t hurt to follow Jablow’s lead and embrace the awkwardness. When she’s walking down the street and sees that former classmate Jablow doesn’t always instinctively avoid contact. “I sometimes think it’s funny to be overly friendly in these situations just to make things more awkward.”

Leave it to a Penn student to make awkwardness a fine art.

By now Fox’s hit drama 24 has been debated ad nauseum by such illustrious media outlets as The New Yorker and The Spin’s own “Dan “Da Bricks” Brickley. With that in mind I felt compelled to address members of the Blogsbe Nation about Monday night’s other Primetime hit, Vh1’s the white rapper show.

Already in its sixth episode, the white rapper show has been blowing away preconceived notions about hip-hop authenticity the way Jack Bauer blows away terrorists and traditional conceptions of habeus corpus. The show follows the lives of 10 aspiring rappers of the light-skinned persuasion as they cohabitate the aptly titled White House in the Bronx and compete to avoid “impeachment” through a series of tests of hip-hop knowledge and rhyming ability.

As a white kid from Northern California’s wine counry whose first album purchase was Warren G’s Regulate…G Funk Era I’m enthralled by the concept of the show and the characters it showcases. The show raises the question what is hip-hop about?

Is it about the hood you grew up in? Is it about the clothes you wear? Is it about the politics or philosophy you preach? With characters like Persia, Jus Rhyme and $hamrock all legitimately vying for the mantle of the next successful white rapper, the answer isn’t clear.

Hip-hop means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me it was a window into another world vacant from the suburbs of Santa Rosa. For Vh1’s white rappers it’s about a life’s dream and defying stereotypes the way Jack Bauer defies the Geneva Conventions. And if you don’t know, now you know.

What a stud.(AP Photo/Brian Baer, Pool)

Like all good Californians, I’ve admire my governor’s commitment to physical fitness. I have just a month left to shape up for Spring Break, so I’m redoubling my vain efforts and joining the “surge” into Pottruck. Upon my return to the gym Wednesday I was reminded of one of my biggest pet peeves about the gym–the music.
There you are, trying to focus building those biceps or burning off those carbs and what do they play to pump you up? The Cardigans’s “Lovefool.” Ace of Base’s “I Saw the Sign.” Sheryl Crow’s “If it Makes You Happy. Am I at the gym or a teeny-boppers’s birthday party circa 1997?

I know a lot of people bring their MP3 players to work out, but not everyone’s equipped with the most ergonomic music player. And while I also understand musical tastes vary, I have to assume I’m the only one having a hard time working out to this mix of 90s pop.

To understand why gym-goers are treated to music that’s not exactly adrenaline pumping I called Brian Haunert, Associate Director of Recreation at Pottruck. Haunert explained that the music is specifically tailored for the varying age groups coming in and out of the gym. “We look at the demographic and try to gear the music towards those preferences.”

In the morning from 6-10 a.m., Haunert explained, the gym is filled mostly with faculty, around lunch and the early afternoon it’s a mix and it’s not till later that students dominate the gym. So, most of the day the radio is set to more faculty-friendly music like pop and hits of the 80s and 90s. For the hip-hop or rock that most students prefer, they just have to wait till the end of the day to work out.
“It’s a lose-lose situation,” Haunert acknowledged. Unfortunately, it feels like the students are losing out a bit more than anyone else.

Cabbies, I’ve got one word for you; plastic.

When the DP first reported that students no longer needed cash to ride in Philly cabs I thought, “It’s about time.” As a Bank of America customer, my closest ATM is at 18th and Market. I hate wasting money on transaction fees, so more often than not I have no cash. I can usually get by with my debit or credit card — but Philly cabs are the exception.

Unfortunately, while there are now machines in place in all Philly cabs to process plastic, few cab drivers are willing to use them. When I find myself short on cash, I don’t often find cabbies short on excuses (Zing!).

Since November I’ve tried using a card countless times. Each time excuses came flying at me: “It hasn’t been activated yet,” (the machine in front of me looked very active.) Another favorite is that machines are broken. My driver Thursday night told me that he hadn’t received any payment from credit card charges and was suing the company.
Alex, a dispatcher at Philly Taxi who refused to give me his full name or the contact of a manager there, repeated adamantly in a thick East European accent, “We accept all credit cards!”

Jim Ney, Director of the Taxi and Limousine division of the Philadelphia Parking Authority explained that drivers may be reluctant to accept credit cards because they are “reluctant to change” and perhaps “unnerved by where that money goes.”

According to Ney, drivers’ concerns are unfounded, as a system is in place for the money to go directly into drivers’ personal accounts. Talking to driver Kulwinder Singh, however, another explanation arose. It takes two weeks for payments to be processed by the credit card company, Singh explained, a painful waiting period for drivers living hand to mouth.

Still, Singh accepted my credit card and assured me other drivers are obligated to accept credit cards as well.

So, what can we do if drivers still refuse our cards?

Ney suggests starting out by asking again, and insisting they take the card, explaining that it is mandatory. If all else fails, riders can report uncooperative drivers to the Philadelphia Parking Authority at (215) 683-9438 during the day, or 683-9439 at night. If you’re going to file a complaint make sure to take note of the time of the day, the P# of the vehicle, large numbers painted on the side of the car, and the H#, the driver’s ID number usually found on a placard behind the driver’s head.

Linda Miller, Senior Director of Facilities and Public Affairs for the Philadelphia Parking Authority explained credit card processors and GPS were installed to make cabs more customer-friendly. Unfortunately for now, they’re producing some decidedly unfriendly behavior from drivers.

Free t-shirts!(Marc Chou/DP)

This week the senior class will kick off Feb Club, an annual tradition of debauched fundraising. Feb Club marks a month of drinking, eating and socializing emphasis on drinking. There’s palpable excitement among my classmates as we gear up for a month that will test our abilities to balance work and play to the limit. But about 200 of my classmates, including yours truly were almost excluded from Feb Club.

You see, I’m a transfer student, and as a result I’ve never received a single e-mail about class events. That means every time there was a study break or a Skimmer, I either heard by word of mouth, or not at all. It’s not a major insult and I know it’s not intentional, but it’s one of the many minor ways that transfer students are placed on the periphery of the Penn community.

So many of Penn social groups are formed during Freshman year. Out of the 8 people in my house this year, 5 know each other from their hall in the Quad. Transfer students are already placed at a disadvantage trying to integrate without being left out of the loop completely.

Terrence Kennedy, a senior who transferred to Penn from William & Mary describes the awkward position of transfers: “All the transfers know each other, so I hear about Penn stuff in general, but class specific stuff you get left out of.” This can lead to a stark disconnect between transfers and their classmates, to the point where Kennedy doesn’t even know Senior class President, Andy Kaplan’s name.

What’s most frustrating about the situation for students like Kennedy and me is the problem requires such an easy solution. It doesn’t require an advisory committee or a vast overhaul of housing or registration, it’s as simple as adding our names to a list. As usual though, the responsibility is left in our hands. Today I e-mailed listserv@lists.upenn.edu, the e-mail address in charge of class listserves to request to be added to the senior class listserv. I would have done it sooner, but like many of my fellow transfers, I didn’t even realize there was a listserv I wasn’t on.

About 300 students transfer to Penn every year. It seems trivial, but it’s the little details like being left off class listservs that create a divide between Transfers and their classmates.