By: Gabriela Yareliz
Last day of class folks. Yup. People are marching into the 24-hour libraries with pillows under their arms. I am not kidding.
I thought I would take a moment today, it being the last day of class and everything, to explain my plight as a journalist these past three years interviewing people on campus.
I told the college it should make interviewing booths, a la Britain–the cute red telephone booths.
Why? You may ask…Here is why: I’d walk out of a class, and I needed to call someone to interview them.
I would sit at a bench and people would walk by laughing hysterically or yelling something (this happens often by Little Hall). And I’d miss what the person said, and I’d have to ask them to repeat and sound like an idiot.
The amphitheater outside of the Reitz Union has people who come to harass you and survey you. So much for the peaceful outdoors.
I’ve sat in the Florida Gym window sills, and women in heels walk by, often making an echoing clack sound. IT IS THE GYM! IS ANYTHING SACRED?! HEELS AT THE GYM! Aren’t they studying to be trainers or something?
I would go by Marston, the science library, and sit on a bench by the blood donor bus and the man with the blower would come, seeing that I am on the phone, and start blowing pollen and leaves around me, making it so that I cannot open my eyes, and I have gross stuff in my hair. Fail.
Then, I tried Plaza of the Americas by Library West. It turns out the interviewee can hear birds chirping and the Krishna people singing their hypnotic but well-sung out song. Not going to work.
Then, I tried the Hub area, but people are loud inside, and the buses make loud noises and popping sounds as they stop and speed off.
I tried the engineering building’s stairwells (Weil), but they have a lot of echo, and people talk loudly in them. By the time they reach your level, their conversation has been booming and echoing.
I tried outside of Weil between that and the journalism building, Weimer. There is construction, so all you can hear is metal falling and trucks beeping as they back up. I hope you are laughing by now and picturing me scrambling to different locations while on the phone. It also started raining here once-out of nowhere.
The Reitz Union foodcourt is okay if it’s early. But one time, I walked in and a man began literally drilling through the wall when I sat down and began the interview.
The library is an awkward place because everyone glares at you.
Turlington is bad because a preacher will begin trying to convert you while you are talking to your source.
Bathrooms are off limits because of the flushing, and I hate it when people talk in bathrooms.
Then, there are other spots where you have to sweat while you interview because there is no shade, and you roast at 100 degrees while writing. Sweat falls on your paper and hair sticks to the back of your neck. Gross.
You might ask, what about the jounalism college itself?
If you sit in the courtyard the custodians walk by with trashbins dragging them across the brick floor all the time.
Yesterday, I received a long awaited call from a source. I ran out of the journalism library because I was getting the glares, and I could barely understand him as it was. I went to the courtyard. It was sunny and quiet. Perfect, I thought.
I sat down, and as he (my source) begins answering my question, I see a construction man come with a hammer and begin slamming something into a new metal stairwell.
I couldn’t believe it. I mean I could, but seriously?
I began grabbing my three bags, books and my blazer, which I had taken off because it was warm. I had the phone pinched between my shoulder and ear, and I was running with my paper and pen, writing at the same time, running out of the courtyard. My last interview of the semester, and the man with the hammer could not be missing.
If I were to share all of my stories where I’ve been interviewing and it started raining, I lost signal or the blower man showed up– you’d die laughing. True stories. Let’s see if my suggestion helps students in the future. We need sound proof booths! There is no quiet place on campus.
Even though these moments made me cringe and run to the next place I hoped would be appropriate, I enjoyed every minute of it.
I will miss you journalism college, and I will miss fleeing from the man with the blower, the Krishna chants and construction workers.
Education is expensive; these fail moments, priceless.
(This bunny picture is for your enjoyment, it has nothing to do with the blog, but it is too cute to not include.)
GABRIELA YARELIZ 