This is my first year back at McGill after a leave of absence. I took one year off, which somehow turned into half a decade. Coming back, I was worried I might not find the McGill I remembered. Maybe I wouldn’t feel at home here anymore because the vibe had changed too much, or because I can grow a real beard and most other undergrads can’t.
Silly me. I’d been away so long I’d forgotten that life at McGill doesn’t change.
The past few weeks have turned out to be a bit of a trip down memory lane. Walking around, I hear a lot of phrases that take me back to the golden days of yesteryear. On the streets I still hear, “Do you have any change?” On campus it’s, “…I was soooo drunk last night….” At the bookstore they tell me, “The line starts on the roof,” and in any administrative office they still say, “We can’t help you here. For that you’ll have to go to [whatever other administrative office I just came from].”
It turns out that I’m the one who’s changed. Sometimes I stop in my tracks when I realize that I’m standing in the exact spot where, six years ago, I threw up a massive puddle of beer and pizza (can you call it a puddle even if it’s not quite liquid?). Yep, those were the good old days, when 99-cent pizza was only $1.49. But thanks to the profound wisdom I’ve gained over the years, I no longer feel the urge to drink beer, wine, vodka and tequila all in the same night, even it is free.
Time and experience have changed my perspective on a lot of things. Just the other day I walked into one of the men’s washrooms on campus and saw the same cock ring dispenser I had first laid eyes on as a naive first-year student. I never thought I’d reach a point in my life where a cock ring dispenser could make me nostalgic, but I guess Montreal has that affect on people.
The first time I saw it, it seemed to be tangible evidence that I was officially going to a very liberal university. A friend at a university in western Ontario – which I won’t name here — once called my cell to complain that they weren’t allowed to have glass bottles in rez, and that they’d get kicked out if they were caught smoking weed. Unfortunately, our conversation was cut short. My roommates and I were in the middle of hot-boxing our bathroom at Solin, and the smoke got so thick I lost reception.
Sadly, any fond memories that I may or may not have of those glow-in-the-dark rubber rings with soft spikes are now tainted by a new sexual-pseudo-political analogy. At a time when students have to fight harder than ever for their place on campus, it seems ironic that one of McGill’s long-standing monuments (pun fully intended) is a cock ring dispenser – an enduring symbol for the eternal ass-fucking the administration gives the student body here at McGill.
~ Greg Osadec
