Collegiate Times

Four oh-so-long years ago I was a wee freshman entering Virginia Tech as an engineer.

Soon after, I decided I was too smart for engineering and that I’d rather make more money one day as a journalist. My only regret now is that I didn’t apply for Tech’s art program. But that’s beside the point.

With that one semester, in which I made engineering look like it should be something learned in elementary school, I was required to take math classes. Some of them were even so fun, interesting and easy that the university decided we should teach ourselves the material.

Through those classes, I was introduced to the Math Emporium, the land of endless computers, upside down red plastic cups, 24-hour service and all the fluorescent lighting you can ask for. Little did I know then, smitten by the freezing cold temperatures and buzzing of the lights, that I would one day come to love that math-devoted hellhole even more.

It wasn’t until my junior year that I began studying for tests and writing papers in the room that never sleeps. And I’m not the only one. Hundreds of Tech students pack into this place every night as if it’s Lane Stadium on a Saturday.

In all honesty, it is a great place to study, with conditions that torture you so much you study as hard as possible to escape them and computer screens as big as a dorm room wall that you can hardly see over.

That used to be why I’d wander to the Empo late on nights before tests, always with a large coffee.

Then I noticed something. I’d always see the same people. And not only that, but I noticed they were never actually studying. They were gossiping, flirting and all-out mingling like this was some party minus the alcohol and music.

It’s hard to believe the place I dreaded going to every week to take math tests as a freshman is now the hippest social hotspot in Blacksburg.

Would it be hard to foresee a future where they scan your Hokie Passport at the front desk, they also stamp your hands if you’re over 21 and “x” them off if you’re under? They could build full-service bars on both sides of the room, and the plastic cups could actually be used to drink from.

But that would never work. It would then be just like any other bar in town, and all the social butterflies would be too cool for that.

Just last year, a group of students tried to start an Empo flash mob to the tune of Tech’s anthem, “Enter Sandman.” Though it was pretty much a failure, that group proved we’re not here to play — nor are we here to study. We’re here to socialize.

And don’t worry if you don’t know where your other socialite friends are sitting in that room the size of Rhode Island — just check your Facebook. If they were there, they surely would have already posted their seat assignment in their statuses.

Even as I sit here amongst a mass of socializing studiers glowing in the lights of Tech’s greatest creation since Shultz Dining Hall, my Facebook status reads, “Writing a stupid column for editorial writing. Come say hi to me at 1D4.”

Well, it’s getting late. I’d better leave and get some sleep if I want to make it back fully focused tomorrow to socialize — I mean study.

Good night and sleep tight, my dearest Empo, even though we all know you don’t sleep. Just don’t accidentally burn down or get hit by a tornado or anything like that, because I just don’t know what I’d do with myself.

A version of this article appeared in the Nov 11 issue of the Collegiate Times.