Picture this: it’s a Thursday morning. You have a 9:30 class to get to. You just made a huge, steaming mug of coffee. You’re ready to face this day! You will go to Davis and start researching your thesis today! You’ve got this! You open your front door. You step outside and recoil instinctively from the all-consuming, dense, muggy wall of pure heat that greets you. Your glasses — we’re picturing you with glasses — fog up immediately. You almost lose your grip on your to-go mug of coffee. You’re panicking. And you haven’t even started your 15 minute walk to class.
Fast forward 15 minutes. You’re moving at a reasonable speed across the quad. You’re not even walking that fast. This is fine. You’re fine. You’re under the shade of a tree, and you realize, with the same jolt of certainty that accompanied your first realization of your own mortality, that the shade is about to run out. You step into the hot sun. It’s hot. So, so hot. Hellishly hot, some might say. Sweat runs down your your back. Your glasses start to slip down your greasy, sweaty nose. You’re a mess. Everyone is appalled.
Sound familiar? That’s because late summer in North Carolina is a torturous hellhole. Everyone is hot. Everyone is sweating. Everyone is seeing acquaintances they haven’t seen all summer, and being forced into the worst of all hot weather decisions: To Hug or Not to Hug. Do you launch into that self-damning, damnable speech – “Oh, don’t touch me, I’m so sweaty! Haha, it’s so hot out, right?” – or go in for a quick, one-sided hug, hoping the visible trails of perspiration under your arms aren’t glistening grotesquely in the sun? Who are you, Meryl Streep? You shouldn’t be forced to make these kinds of decisions. (Excellent and subtle Sophie’s Choice reference by the Edit Board. You’re welcome.)
Essentially, everyone is suffering, and the UNC Board of Trustees and Board of Governors remain conspicuously silent on the issue. So here, for public review, are a few workable solutions that we, your elected Edit Board, would like to propose.
First, and most obvious: refueling stations. Marathon style. We want to see tents stocked with ice-cold Gatorade every 30 feet on campus, and we want to see them now.