WUnderground WashU's Premier (and only) satirical newspaper!
Picture this. You’re finally on the plane en route to your dream vacation: sunny ol’ Cancún. In your current daze, you can almost taste the piña colada on your tongue. If you’re quiet enough, you can hear your non-Hispanic mom mustering up the courage to speak Spanish to the female waiter, saying something like “Hola Señor margarita tortilla,” thinking she’s bilingual now. You are so excited to wear all your new outfits from Shein that some little Indian or Bangladeshi child hand-stitched so you could be fitted up in Mexico. It’s all going to be perfect.
Suddenly, a flight attendant is speaking to you. You already know what her question is, so you respond plainly, “Ginger Ale, please.” The attendant looks at you confused and says, “I asked if I could take that chair for our rush event?”
You then realize you’re in Bauer Hall at WashU in Clayton, Missouri. That isn’t a flight attendant. It’s a fucking DSP member in her business professional who looks like she’s on the Delta Premium Select crew. Respectfully, no woman should be allowed to wear a blazer unless they’re 30,000 miles in the air and doing a safety demonstration for an emergency water landing.
Don’t get me wrong, looking professional is totally important in this WashU world of ours. I love a good button down blouse and case competition once in a while. However, I can’t tell you how confusing it is when I see a gaggle of people walking around campus and my first thought is that it must be a flight crew stopping in on a layover, but then their asses are talking about Management 100.
Either learn about supply curve shifters or serve me up some of those yummy Biscoff cookies. I’m so over the shenanigans.
