All you wanted to know - but were afraid to ask

This information is based on good, solid research. After all, this is what happened to everyone we know.

According to the University, first-year Orientation is supposed to "encourage prospective donating alumnus" to "immerse themselves into the diversity of the academic institution, while maintaining a liberated sense of personal well-being and fulfillment."

All in the span of 63 hours.

We think we can "fulfill" you a hell of a lot faster - and fulfill you with things that matter.

The University Orientation begins with snapping that beautiful 8 a.m. first-thing-off-the-bat M-Card photo (yeah, everyone looks real good that early in the morning), and then it's off to boring lectures from professors who need money so bad they actually stick around in the summer.

So instead, on day one of our somewhat-useful Orientation, we'll smack you so you know this is college and everybody's not as nice as we are. Afterward, you'll start your sleep deprivation experiment. During this time, there are a few things you can learn (because it's not like 'U' Orientation leaders can really teach you anything. Come on, they're living in the dorms as upperclassmen).

Mark Snyder Jennifer Yachnin Divide and Conquer

We'll keep you up for 36 hours to show you what happens to people who study - and then you can try Mark's schedule to live like those who don't.

To give the full effect of a real college workload, you'll type a full term paper, and then we'll pull the plug on the entire Angell Hall computer bank to give you the full effect - keep in mind the four-hour line it took to get in.

Later in the evening, around midnight, everyone will be required to take a lone walk through the Diag to experience how creepy it is late at night. Afterwards, everyone can hang out in the UGLI until 3 a.m. to see how normal college kids live.

But if anyone should ask, you're just at the library goofing off.

See, at Michigan, nearly everyone studies as much as possible, but pretends like they don't study at all.

If you saunter on over to the graduate library at this time, remember there are people who really get it on in the stacks - leave them alone.

When you've come home from the UGLI, you can start on the most important part of your college experience: drinking. And, similar to everything else you'll do, it's all about taking advantage of the time you have to do it.

Here's a few basic tips since most of you are still underage (you better be underage or you spent an awful long time in high school):

Take a walk down to the State and Packard area and try to buy beer at Blue Front - a near impossibility. Then walk on over to Strickland's where a fake ID works better than the real thing.

Once you have illegally obtained alcohol, crowd 30 people into one room and for the true fraternity experience, get a half-empty, stale keg of beer. Then turn up the bass really loud on some good "party" music.

After you've gone through the first 36 hours of this groovy orientation, you'll need to get some sleep. (The second greatest college activity.) Sure you have your own bed, but try and experiment sleeping in other people's, too - it's worth the trouble and potentially a lot of fun.

But DO NOT sleep in a frat house. (For that matter, don't live there, either.)

Part of your nap-time education will be the lesson on alarm clocks and the fact that they're basically worthless.

Don't waste $15 on that warm LCD glow (spend it on beer), because if you're hungover, no damn bell - no matter how loud - will wake you up.

Then again, even if you do wake up, you'll be locked in a converted triple with an annoying roommate and smelly person.

We figure this will allow you to get the "homey" dorm ambiance in the confined quarters the University describes as "luxurious." Speaking from experience, four by four is not a room - it's a closet filled with orange-scented moth balls.

Not to mention the dirty laundry and old food we'll have filled your room with to give it that authentic scent.

Of course, living in such cramped quarters, communication remains your only link to your former life in the outside world.

E-mail is primed to take over your life - unless Daddy pays the phone bill and then you just annoy your roommate by never shutting up. (This is an East Coast thing, you'll learn it the hard way.)

For fun, at the end of Orientation, we'll bill you 50 bucks so you can experience the joys of long-distance.

Remember to kiss your mommy's cooking good-bye, because at our Orientation you're going to learn it's all mass quantity grade-C beef and brown lettuce (yum). Not that there's anything wrong with that, some people actually like it (Mark).

Of course, if you're not eating in the cafeteria you may try working there (Jenni), it is the easiest job around. Guarding the door in the cafeteria IS really the best job on campus. But, then again, sneaking past the exit guard with trays from the cafeteria can also be exciting. Taking them to the Arb to sled is a rite of passage. But if you try this during our Orientation, watch out for jagged rocks and sticks.

When everyone is sick of cafeteria food, our super-fly Orientation leaders will take you to the Union for fast food, since that's really the Union's only good purpose.

(When you've long forgotten the horrors of Orientation, remember this: Make your parents treat you to dinner downtown at least once, because after you're a student, you can't afford it.)

Judging from your lack of interest in this column, this Orientation advice needs to fall back on the University's saving grace - football.

As the defending national champions, our beloved Wolverines pack 100,000 into Michigan Stadium six Saturdays each fall. But when we say pack - we mean it. To demonstrate the experience, we plan to immerse you amongst 100,000 slightly-passive fans and have you stand on one leg, sideways, on your four-inch seat in all types of weather.

The unpredictability of the weather off the field rivals the performance on it. The first game it can easily snow, with the second contest showcasing Hawaii-like weather. (Unless, of course, the game is in Hawaii.) Now that's football.

Ornery ushers, bad hot dogs and free commemorative cups - after purchasing the $4 pop - make it an experience you won't forget. It's hard to believe now that those Saturdays will be among your greatest memories.

To prepare you for the chaos that ensues following dramatic football victories, you will need to practice storming into President Bollinger's house so you feel comfortable after the next big football victory (Sorry, Jean).

With the five minutes we have left before you all run home and to wash your underwear, we'll tell you about the biggest lie they teach at the University Orientation: That an academic education is the top priority.

To correct for this untruth - after all you do need to take classes - here are a few words of advice.

Certain upperclassmen (Mark) know the true blow-off classes (Oceans, Sports and Daily Life in Ancient Rome, Coral Reefs), but will lead you in the opposite direction.

But that's alright since all the classes you'll be taking are intro level and you'll be treated like an insignificant peon anyway. Like in Chem 130, where you're just a face in the crowd.

And finally, for those poor souls whose parents left them waiting on the steps of East Quad, we'll make you sit in the Daily at 3 a.m. waiting for corrections.

Then again, you shouldn't have even shown up for any Orientation. Instead, you could have just spent 63 hours on the phone with the CRISP lady.

Now that would be an orientation ...

- Mark Snyder and Jennifer Yachnin are the editors of the New Student Edition. They can be reached via e-mail at jayak@umich.edu and msnyder@umich.edu.

09-08-98