Fly on the Wall: The Buzz on Gordy

Photo by Parker Bennett.

Photo by Parker Bennett.

Gordy Dining Hall–The place where the smell of poor college kids and desperation slaps you in the face as soon as you walk through the doors.  Yes, all the Reinhardt students know it very well, for it’s the place they resort to when their stomachs are growling and they are either too broke to go into Canton to eat or are too lazy to actually get in their cars and go somewhere else. Although Gordy can be a savior to those who have faced one or both of these problems, there are a few rules that students need to follow in order to survive in the jungle of the dining hall. Have no fear, students, I am here to help.

If you thought that college lunch rooms would be different than high school… You were wrong. It’s not different. It’s the same. As once sang by Bowling For Soup, “High School Never Ends.” Inspired by watching Mean Girls over the weekend, I decided to put together a diagram of how Gordy works. I split it up into two parts: where to sit and what to eat. If you are a freshman, this article will keep you from getting your hands stepped on in your attempts to climb up the social ladder. As for the upperclassmen, you will probably just get a kick out of how accurate these diagrams are.

GordyDiningHallfinished

Seating in the dining hall is a lot more complex than what is often seen by the naked eye. There is a complicated system that you are obligated to live by. There are “free zones” that are safe to sit at, open to anyone in the student body. One student that most people know, Josh Robinson, typically sits in the safe zones. If you don’t know who Josh is, you probably should. He’s hard to miss.

Other tables are territorially owned by some of the big cliques of Reinhardt. As seen in the first diagram, the red boxes symbolize the safe places to sit without facing the irritated glares of the students you don’t belong with. Otherwise, the tables are labeled with the typical cliques that sit there. Most of the long tables sit most of the athletes and upperclassman “populars”. The round tables are for more of the smaller groups, like the freshman partiers or the cheerleaders.

If you sit at the wrong table, BEWARE. Prepare for whispers and evil glares from the other people at the table. You will be made fun of. You will feel awkward. You will be out-casted.

As far as food goes, most of the food, aside from the main entrees, is safe. The pizza is good as long as it has just come out of the oven and doesn’t have any leftover chicken or veggies from the day before. Stick to pepperoni and cheese. Salads are always healthy and all. The side entrees are usually okay if they have pasta or nachos. Sandwiches are always a safe second. Stay away from the main entrees unless it is Fried Chicken Wednesday or pasta day. The tofu that they put in everything may look safe, but it’s still tofu and it’s still gross.

GordyDiningHallfinishedfood

One last thing to remember is to never forget your card. The Card Nazi will hunt you down tell you that you aren’t allowed to eat there. Do not pass GO. Do not collect 200 dollars. If you follow this guide, you are sure to have the best experience you could possibly have in a dining hall with mediocre food and high school cliques… You’re welcome.

The Hiltonian newspaper staff goes to University of Georgia for GCPA

Video composed edited and made by Kelsey Swofford

Creative Writing Spotlight: Drew Laurens

Courtesy of Google Images

From Iron Prophet Skallagrim the Ancient:

Brother! Brother, put on your lifting shoes! This is holy ground! Come away from that evil device, its ponderous advances cannot harm you in the safety of the Rack! Join me, here, let your soles touch the rubber and cast away your hesitance!

Sisters! Step down from those infernal machines! Tarry not near the scale! That shadow of the truth blinds your real sight! The hood of doubt leads you down a long, slow, and distant path! Hearken, that you may learn the value of strength! Yea, the righteousness of a c-shaped butt! The glory of an unassisted pull-up!

What is it you fear? Why do you run from the Iron? It means you no harm! Indeed, were it to speak, were these stones to cry out, they would tell not of carnage but of true strength! It is on floors like this that legends train to become legends, champions forge their legacies, and heroes stride with purpose! It is here, where the plates ring and the bar bows and the chalk floats, here, where the song of steel drowns out the voices of the bros, here, now, under and over and with the Bar that your destiny may be wrought! The kickback unmans you! The bench hypnotizes you! The Smith machine–that abomination–conspires to remove that which your ancestors relied upon–your athletic adaptability!

Is the world populated with isolational lifts? Does the furniture you tote move along a single axis at a time? Verily, were you taught to lift during an earthquake? From the beginning it was not so! You know the right of these facts–indeed, your hearts echo in time with the clang of the plates! You burn for the Iron! You yearn for its metallic scent in your nostrils, for cramp-inducing squats and deadlifts of thrice-bodyweight with which to fill your training logs! You see your heroes–athletes and lifters all!–on the tube, in the magazines, and if you want to be like them: supple, strong, lean–then come–Train–liftGROW!

Your arms beg you for compound movements! Your posterior chains are malnourished by your steady diets of desk jobs! Let rise in you the primal precursor to your horn-rimmed-glassesed-self: your tribal strongman screams long and loud in your heart, is kneeling, begging to be freed at least three times per week!

Venture not into the land of the Small Pink Dumbbell, that lie-laced paradise of soy milk and artificial honey! Take and eat of the red meat your grandfather’s grandfathers ate to become strong! Fibrous plant matter was a supplement to fatty animal flesh–eaten off the bone!–in days of yore. Who are you to deny your body’s own urgings? In unsung ages past–undreamed of except by a few–the old gods, Milo, Grimek, Anderson, Park, Justa, Saxon, Pearl, Maxick, Sandow, Kono, and all their ilk hoisted and strove to exert their mighty wills against unyielding Iron, and time and again they proved themselves in flashing arenas and under weight-bent bars.

Their example, their sweat-soaked sacrifice, is what today gives life to the gym in which you stand! They set the precedent, and they did not intend for you to sit passively and row mindlessly, empty eyes surveying a sea of mediocrity and woe! The truth blazed in them as it blazes in me–brightly! hotly! eternally!–that with great effort comes great reward! They frolicked in the easy power of their steely thews and made child’s play of man-crushing weight! This is the way of things, that man should ne’er be at the mercy of his surroundings! That man should be a victor, as Epictetus reminds us: the Iron is that rough antagonist! Become a conqueror!

Let those who have ears hear! Leave behind antiquated and rusty ellipticals! Turn away from the tentacular Nautilus, that creature from the depths of slothful oceans, deny your vanity and look beyond the mirror to the Rack! Take from the libraries of those who have come before you a program suited to your needs–they are myriad and effective–and live up to your potential, rather than drown it in endless cardio! Become proficient in the squat, deadlift, press, and pull-up, yea, verily, sprint on the same days that you squat, and you will see–feel–know–yourself to be a changed person! Yes, a day may come upon which you must sit down to curl–but it is not this day! Gird up your belt, coat your hands with chalk, and anoint yourself in the flames of the Rack!

Written By: Drew Laurens, Contributor, Community Member

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 91 other followers