I was walking around campus for the first time in 9 months, spurred by nostalgia and a deep craving for the familiar. Fiending for a liminal space that would make me feel like a video game character, I walked to Jo’s, knowing I could rely on the dismal lighting and carpeted floors to feel…something. To my misfortune, I found an unrecognizable space– a seemingly gentrified and grotesque horror show. Unable to handle the intense burden of pain I was feeling at that moment, I ran behind the building, to the only fixture I recognized from previous years: the Jo’s dumpster.
Surprisingly, I was not the only one seeking comfort in the giant steel fixture; the only place that could attempt to replicate the grime that the dining hall effortlessly maintained. Campus squirrels and skunks had gathered to resist the new renovations. “We just didn’t know how good we had it,” said the campus skunk, stunned by the changes at Josiah Carberry’s dining hall. “Over the summer, in the most horrid turn of events, Jo’s underwent the Starbucksification of a lifetime,” said a chunky squirrel from his soapbox, “even the dumpster doesn’t feel the same anymore.”
I was shocked yet comforted, to find that I was not the only being craving the dinghy and dismal environment that had been so brutally erased by our money-hungry administration that relies on tacky “solutions” to augment student interest in our lackluster dining halls. If I had millions of dollars to put towards improving our dining facilities, I certainly would not have plastered the shadowy silhouette of a fictional professor holding a briefcase upon those walls.
In total, 15 critters stood in solidarity with me, as we constructed an unfulfilled plan to protest New Jo’s. “I haven’t seen an uncrustable wrapper in months,” said one squirrel, holding back tears. “It simply doesn’t feel like a home anymore,” said a skunk who, as a stigmatized creature on campus, has had enough trouble feeling welcome.
So please reader, I implore you: remember old Jo’s and stand in community with nostalgic seniors and campus critters who simply cannot handle change. The new paint is not only tasteless but boring. The lighting is way too calculated and purposely ambient to feel authentic. The leafy wallpaper is so saturated that the salads at Jo’s look bland and pale in comparison. The chairs…don’t get me started. And the division between a renovated dining room and non-renovated kitchen area has made for an aesthetically confused, and terribly bewildering dining experience. Walking into the old kitchen and being reminded of what once was is not only emotionally draining but painful. New Jo’s is the antithesis of authenticity and meaningful, honest connection. Even though I am off meal plan, I will be spending even LESS time at Jo’s, as I cannot support an environment that has so carelessly strayed away from its roots.
We must commit, as a community, to #NeverForgetOldJos. And please refrain from heckling the campus critters about their opinions and experiences at the late-night-eatery, they have been through enough and their vulnerability is immeasurable. While I intend on destigmatizing the space in any way I can for the sake of the little guys, if any of you see me at new Jo’s…no you didn’t.