Whenever an organization tests the boundaries of free speech, there will undoubtedly be naysayers and censors crying foul and demanding retribution.

Such is the atmosphere that has descended upon Madison.

Any student making the rounds to class recently could see protestors incensed over The Badger Herald's decision to run a cartoon depicting the Islamic Prophet Muhammad wearing a bomb on his head. Over the last two weeks, this campus has seen petitioners blanketing Library Mall compelling students to call for the head of the Herald's editor in chief and accusations of blatant racism in the media.

"Jesus Christ," I ironically muttered to myself while sitting in the comfort of my own room, surrounded only by the deluge of clothes that found their way onto my floor and a half-empty bottle of Shiraz. "When I go out into the world, this horde of lunatics will descend on me faster than a pack of crazed environmentalists swarm around a SUV!"

Needless to say, I decided to forgo stealing my roommate's moped for a few days and instead opted to walk to class, hoping to randomly stumble upon such a protest and engage in a massive outdoor oration the Midwest has not seen since the Lincoln-Douglas debates.

You see, my pseudo-intellectual rhetoric had largely been confined to preaching to my thoroughly uninterested Asian roommates, whose souls had been mercilessly consumed by the evil vice that is “Mario Kart 64.” I had been unable to adequately respond to the proverbial bitchslaps that had unjustly been handed down to us from a competing college daily and even The Badger Herald's homegrown version of Ken Starr.

Several days into my newfound devotion to walking, I found myself wandering down the street depressed that my quest for an open-air intellectual roundtable had failed to reach fruition. However, I quickly noticed something that suspiciously resembled a protest out of the corner of my eye.

"My obvious moral superiority," I foolishly thought at the time, "will prevail in this free market of ideas and will send these unpatriotic wankers packing." If you hate freedom, to borrow a line from our unnecessarily nationalistic friends on the far right, then geeeeet out!

However, my eager anticipation immediately hit a rather prominent road block. Standing directly in my path, preventing me from finally engaging the overly sensitive demonstrators, was a 50-foot stretch of unforgiving, unplowed icy terrain.

As I stood pondering my chances of successfully traversing the treacherous path, I noticed several individuals were already losing an epic struggle with the hellish pavement, which now seemed virtually impassible.

Since my well-thought out plan to randomly come across protests proved wildly unsuccessful, I was much obliged to represent the Herald on a WSUM talk show earlier this month.

My ideological foes, I surmised, would burst into the studio with the collective will of more than a billion incensed Muslims.

And, to be perfectly honest, a small part of me was secretly hoping to square off against a rabid ideologue. Debates are always easier when your opponent's arguments are off kilter, as anyone who has ever met Anne Coulter can attest.

As I stepped inside the WSUM elevator, I began to fret about the best way to introduce myself to my soon-to-be rivals; this could have been the product of mild nerves, but it was more likely due to the fact that I was in more of a mobile death trap than an actual elevator.

First impressions are always critical. While some attempt to create an aura of confidence and power, I chose to dress down for the occasion in a strategic feint to make my opponents underestimate me (as my 5-foot-8 Hebrew build is ill-equipped to strike fear into the heart of anyone who has outgrown Hot Wheels).

And yet, much to my chagrin, I was not met by a pair of fanatical extremists; quite the opposite. Both of my opponents were rational, polite fellows, a far cry from my delusional expectations.

The ensuing debate was calm and failed to deteriorate into childish name calling. It was like expecting to storm Normandy in 1944 but instead getting assigned to civil defense duty and finding yourself pleasantly sipping tea with your British allies.

My positive experience at WSUM was repeated the following evening during a much publicized panel to discuss the printing of the cartoon, which also turned out to be a relatively productive session.

In fact, aside from one particular overzealous individual attending the panel — who, after embarking on a parenthetical rant, decided he missed the sound of his own voice and proceeded to chastise Chancellor Wiley for failing to condemn The Badger Herald — all my encounters with those offended by the cartoon ultimately proved constructive. Although I vehemently disagree with their argument, I walked away from this experience with a newfound respect for those on the opposite side of the fence.

Rob Hunger ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in political science and journalism.