As I sat and pondered this week’s column, a friend of mine interrupted me to inquire as to what I was doing. After revealing that I was beginning my article for the paper, he became intrigued. “Oh yeah?” he began, “So who are you making fun of this week?”

I was slightly insulted. I understand the Opinion page is the forum for many rants and raves, as well as general lunacy. But as a staff writer, my job is more than simply finding a new person or institution to pick on every week, isn’t it?

In order to prove my friend wrong and show the campus that I am more than a cynical little smartass, I decided, for a change, to write about what I thought was right about this campus and this university. Let’s just call it an early Valentine gift to my beloved UW-Madison. The things I love about UW are very simple; they are things that I can identify with. In fact, they are things that every student can identify with. They are the things that make our experience at UW unique.

Academically: The jitters I felt on the first day of class every semester; the sound of the touchtone lady when she tells me I successfully added a class; the way a course grid looks when it doesn’t have any gaps in it; no classes on Fridays; finding a friend to sit next to in every class; stumbling across the last used book at University Book Store; the look and smell of a brand new notebook; the feeling of relief whenever I leave an exam, regardless of the outcome; taking long naps on Bascom Hill during the fall; using the ASM bus pass when the temperature drops below freezing (roughly November until April); taking afternoon naps after 7:45 chemistry discussions; a schedule that doesn’t include any early classes; exams held during class rather than late at night; a DARS report that confirms all requirements have been satisfied; the sound of the bell tower at the Social Science building; lecture halls at Grainger; the buzz around the Herald as a deadline draws near and the eerily silent stacks at Memorial Library.

Athletically: The sea of red throughout the stands at Camp Randall on a football Saturday; the fifth quarter; quarter barrels after the fifth quarter; jogging to Picnic Point and through the Arboretum as the leaves change; the sound of “Eye of the Tiger” as it blares during the fourth mile of the Crazy Legs run; the track at the Shell; the UW marching band; the sound of squeaking shoes during basketball at the Kohl Center; volleyball at the Field House; the hockey crowd when they chant “Sieve” to an opposing goalie and “Section O Sucks” chants.

Socially: The smell of Taco John’s during the wee morning hours; people who dress up to study at College Library; the bar where everyone knows your name and knows how you like your drinks (Jack Daniels with just a splash of Coke); knowing every night brings a new drink special; the sight of the drunk bus arriving to take you home; open mic at The Rathskeller; a Pat McCurdy show at the Regent Street Retreat; playing Cricket on the dartboard; finding an open pool table; playing Frisbee at James Madison Park during the summer; 46-ounce beers at the Memorial Union; hearing my name called over the loudspeaker on my birthday at the Gritty; the Mifflin Street Block party; rooting for a friend who is trying to complete the two pound Burger challenge (nearly impossible to do, but hilarious nonetheless); the wail of a saxophone at Luther’s Blues; finally being able to use your real ID on your 21st birthday; the assortment of Fish Bowl colors; Greenbush doughnuts at any hour of the day and a great meal on the Capitol Square after a particularly long semester.

And finally, tradition: The terrace during the summer afternoons; the first warm spring day after a long and cold winter; State Street on Halloween; a cigar after completing my last final exam of the semester; the ‘W’ of flowers outside the Humanities building; people from the dorms who have become lifelong friends; my editor telling me “Yes, we’re going to print this garbage;” the lights on the State Street trees during the holidays; laughing with friends about the previous night over breakfast; sitting on Abe’s lap; sledding down Bascom Hill; walks of shame and, oh yeah . . . more naps.

Satisfied with my list, I showed my friend that I was indeed capable of going a whole week without picking on anyone.

“Hey,” he said, “You still hate the Greek System, right?”

“Definitely,” I replied.

Well, almost a whole week without picking on someone.

Zach Fehrenbach ([email protected]) is a UW-Madison alum.