Virginia Tech Dining Halls

The interior of D2 on Virginia Tech campus, Sept. 20, 2016.

So you’ve taken the official tours, and your older brother let you wander Center Street before a football game when you were like 14. Feeling optimistic, you went ahead and decided to be a Hokie even though you may have to let your roommate know every time you use someone else’s bathroom so you can take the proper quarantine protocol by sleeping in your dorm closet. No idea how they are going to pull that off.

During the official tours you took in the rain this January, you may have been fed an overwhelming amount of information about each and every building on campus. Nah, just kidding, you didn’t catch that, but your parents won’t stop telling everyone they know that Virginia Tech mandates a Hokie Stone facade on every building now and how that’s “so interesting!”

Among all the Hokie Stone, you, a newly minted freshman, might want a little information on the locations surrounding you on your walk to your only in-person class. 

As you walk around the residential side of campus, you might encounter a massive airport terminal. No, that’s actually Dietrick Hall, containing D2, a dining hall with mixed reviews. Although there are many similarities: long lines, people crowding around power outlets and literally only one bathroom.

After spending a hefty amount of dining money on the four slices of cake you sneaked and shoved in your backpack, you walk to class. Navigating the corridors of random quads, you stumble upon what can only be described as one of the apartment buildings forever left abandoned by the nuclear catastrophe at Chernobyl. This is Slusher Tower, and if the name sounds inviting to you, at least take a glimpse inside to see it before it ultimately gets replaced. 

With its fabled freight elevators and dorm/closets, Slusher Tower really makes a name for itself, as well as its smell.

“Slusher has these lovely carpeted walls that trap every stain and smell of a college freshman,” said Jamie Mustian, a recently graduated neuroscience major.

If you weren’t trapped in the labyrinth of buildings and electronic scooters, you made it to the Drillfield. That’s it, really. A pretty decent field. Just remember to document and cherish the “memorable walks and memories” you had on this field for your endless Facebook posts about college — two years after you graduate. Just watch out for the quidditch players; their rules are based on magic.

So, you’ve made it to your freshman level class at the first circle of Hell –– limbo. Oh, your soul is still in your body? You’re actually in McBryde Hall, a windowless fortress of doom. It is a place of ancient confusion, where you will certainly lose your sense of direction when leaving class, feeling much like the lotus eaters from the “Odyssey.The heat strangles the mind, and while you intend to leave via the Drillfield, you exit on the side directly facing Turner Place. This is where you have ventured too far.

Sirens line the sidewalks, luring you over with their howls until you crash. These are the campus booths. From big name sororities to intellectual thinking organizations, these booths prey on the weak, and will certainly get you on an unavoidable email list that won’t go away until Virginia Tech takes your address and Spotify benefits back.

Upon entering Turner Place for what was referred to as “doba” by a man wearing dockers and white socks, you soon realize that this epic will not be over anytime soon. Lines, so many lines.

“Don’t ever get a craving for anything at Turner,” Mustian said. “You could literally write and publish a cookbook before getting through the Qdoba line.”

Walking back to your now-reset two-week quarantine in your dorm closet with your Chipotle replacement in hand, you gaze at the Blacksburg sun and hope for the best as you make your journey home.

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