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and EnreKrammnr Lacking slumber in Seattl Sight-seeing (umher, tfiefinest cncumher, truingfor the phone numher. JZttin a weekend's stay on the (Puaet Sound. Jason Koop and Martin J. Webster Student Life Editors With only twenty dollars in our pockets, three chords and the truth, we boarded the Morris Airplane o' laughs, headed for the city where people throw fish, espresso abounds and grunge had its birth. We took our seats at the back of the plane next to Valynn, a timid high school girl running from Idaho to stay with her aunt. It was 7:00 a.m., Saturday, October 1 when we departed SLC. Valynn looked nervous; it was her first time flying. Jason didn't help much by asking what the little paper bag with the handy twist-tie was for. Things went OK; we reached 36,000 feet and Valynn was engrossed in a novel titled, "Love Comes Softly. " To the right of us, a thirty-something, long-haired,all-season-short-wearing-snowboard bum was overheard by the back section to be speaking of alcoholic beverages in every other sentence. His curiosities then turned to Morris Air' s menu selection of drinks for those twenty -one and older. By the end of the two-hour flight, "Bud," as well call him, and his comrades had sampled every one on the list. Due to Morris Air's final flapping of its wings that weekend before being bought out by Southwest Airlines, the captain and crew were out in full, unprofessional force. Their joviality was displayed by such attire as shorts and Mickey Mouse hats. The astonishment increased as the head stewardess unwrapped a PB n' J sandwich from home and by invitation rested herself on the lap of some fat guy with a beard. The fun wasn't over yet. The flight attendants announced a game for the passengers. It involved unrolling toilet paper to the end of the plane by means of passing it overhead from seat to seat. The right aisle won. Their prize: the rest of the peanuts! "Welcome to Anchorage, Alaska... just kidding," the Captain smirked, and we had landed. We walked out of the terminal to find lush green foliage and drizzling gray weather, we were happy. It reminded Jason of his mission in Japan and Martin of his homeland, England . Besides, it would have been a rip-off to go to Seattle and not have rain. We called for a taxi and were soon greeted by a dark man wearing a red turban and dress shoes with no socks. He took us to the nearest LDS Stake Center so we could watch the morning session of General Conference. The proceedings were enjoyed and Martin even saw his ex-girlfriend singing in the choir. Mind you, it was the Mormon Youth Chorus not the Tabernacle Choir. There we met some of the local missionaries and told them we had been dating their girlfriends at BYU. We hung out for a while, but soon the group of Elders were off to Denny's for lunch. A local resident and friend, Ben Lim, picked us up to take us downtown so we could see the heart of Seattle, feel the vibe, walk the walk, smell the fish and otherwise get our adventure under way. And underway it did get as Ben, being unfamiliar with Seattle himself, dropped us off by a sign that read "WE HAVE 50 BEAUTIFUL GIRLS INSIDE AND ONLY 3 UGLY ONES. " On the sidewalk we were welcomed by Ron, the stumbling, black, blues singer. He spotted Martin's guitar and craved a song. A simple blues accompaniment was played as he clapped his hands to the rhythm and belted out at the top of his lungs 1 came to Seattle to see what I could see. I found me some friends ..." and so it went. We played a song that our band "40 Days" had written called "Town's Best Fisherman. " We were delighted with Ron's backing vocals where he repeated "oooh baby" in harmony with whatever was being sung. And thatbrother had a great voice See SEATTLE, Page 10 M Jason Koop and Martin J. WebsterThe College Times Center: Ground to air of the Space Needle. It stretches 605 feet tall. Upper Left: Jason (left) and Martin in the midst of a dense Washington Forest on Whidby Island. Lower Left: The Puget Sound. Bottom Right: Richardo (sitting), a Seattle resident, and Martin sing some Beatles songs on a street corner. He Thinks. &e This Week We Will Reveal the Secret of Understanding Men. (Next week, women). Jason's response: No. I know what you women are thinking. Yeah, yeah, yeah there's only two ways you think you can understand men, right? And the one is through food. Butdon'tyou understand that we, the male race, are deeper, and sometimes even delicate creatures. When we fall down, it hurts. When our favorite football team loses, we secretly wipe a tear dry. When a woman flashes a sharp object in a lower direction at us, we're scared. When we see a puppy, we want to pet it. And finally, when a baby cries, sometimes we want to, in a hushed voice, sing "Rock-a-by-baby " when no one is around. "Jerk" is often the term used to describe a perfectly normal male just trying to make his way in this cruel world. Sometimes it's hard to be what we want because a woman always assumes the male-ness of a man. This hard shell called the "male-ego," isn't just our creation. If a man sobbed when a women was present, what would she think? "I'm somehow involved with this spineless excuse for cheese mold that smells and needs to be discarded? And this is what they call man, defender of his family, provider for survival, the hunter? This is a joke, a fallacy. I'm laughing at his existence." I don't doubt it. We must protect ourselves. Sheila's response: If I knew the secret of understanding men, my present situation would be as follows: first of all, I wouldn't be writing this column; I would have authored at least three books; I would be scheduled to appear on the Oprah Winfrey Show and a half a dozen other daytime talk shows; I'd be a millionaire; and I would be living in a luxury Condo in Denver, not the hole in the wall in which I presently reside. However, I do have some insights that might help a few of you conquer the impossible quest of understanding men. The number one thing to remember is never, ever try to bother a man while he is trying to eat or sleep. This could become very detrimental to your Steve Argyle77e College Times present situation. This fact might also explain why man and dog are best friend; they have a lot in common. Now, I know many of you women out there are thinking; "When can I talk to him?" Right you are) this means there are only about three hours of day to speak with the male species, so use your time wisely. Another thing is, no mat ter how wrong he might be, let him think he's right. Men like to have power and as long as they think they are in control, things should be fine. Ego boosts are also important. Men, although they won't admit it, love to be complemented. Just try it. Tell a man he's "a luscious babe" and watch his face light up as if he just made the winning touchdown for the 49'ers. I think the reality is, women will never figure out men because men don't understand themselves.
|Title||UVSC College Times, 1994-10-05|
|Description||UVSC College Times was the student newspaper for Utah Valley State College from July 07, 1993 to June 2, 2008|
|Publisher||Utah Valley University|
|Subject headings||Utah Valley State College--History; Utah Valley University--History; College student newspapers and periodicals;|
|Source||The College Times, 1994-10-05|
|Rights||Copyright 2013 Utah Valley University|