Dear Dana, why are the front doors to Waterman so heavy?

Well, my weak fellow student, Waterman is a building of much authority, and holds the majority of the sovereignty on this campus.

So, by creating an intimidating entrance to the building they are trying to prepare you for what you will find inside. For instance, just around the corner from these cumbersome doors stands the Registrar’s Office.

Yes, that’s right, this is where all your potential graduation problems will arise; un-transferred credits, incomplete requirements, overly extensive evaluations, request forms, inquiry statements, and the list goes on.

If that does not serve to intimidate you, just turn your ass right around and meander down the oversized staircase that leads you to the deep, dark dungeon below. Here lies the computer depot, mailroom, and obscure food vendors, while random art pieces dot the walls as you stumble to find the sign leading you to your appropriate execution.

In all honesty however, the real heart and soul of Waterman can be found on the fourth floor, and its name is…The Manor.

You may be wondering how a restaurant could call so much attention to a building, but if you are pondering this then you certainly have not had the experience of dining there.

I will quickly outline the idiosyncrasies that make The Manor the winner that it truly is. Picture this: you’re out to eat a nice lunch, for a change, with your friends. You each order an appetizer and an entrée.

Food arrives, you are all happy as pigs in shit, and you’re munching away with glee. Suddenly, one of your compadres reaches across the table to snag a bit of your grilled cheese.

It is at this very moment that the waitress swiftly approaches your table to notify you that she is now going to have to charge you an alleged split fee. End of story.

This is the most absurd, and stingy experience I have ever had to go through. Interestingly enough this argument over a few extra bucks really made me question where exactly my tuition goes.

Certainly, at $30,000 a year I reserve the right to stick my smelly hand into as many french fries, Caesar salads, or pasta dishes as I damn well please. Am I wrong, please tell me, am I wrong? I didn’t think so either.