Partly Cloudy, 64°
Evan Berman ’14 is working diligently to make sure that his plans to study abroad during the fall 2012 do not fall through. Berman has had difficulty, however, deciding with any finality where he plans to travel because he has yet to find a location where the religious beliefs of the majority of the population are still up for grabs.
“I’m hoping to stumble into a situation where I pick up a special rock, or something like that, and every local starts worshipping me,” Berman said. “You know, a classic mishap. There have to be islands somewhere that are still like that, no?”
After an exhaustive search, Berman has narrowed down his list of destinations to Burma, Laos, the Bermuda Triangle and several more tropical islands that he no doubt invented. None of Berman’s proposed locations has universities.
“I’m a simple man,” Berman said. “All I want to do is spend a semester off-campus, immersed in an unfamiliar native culture. And if while I’m there the native people bow down to me every time I enter a room and offer me their youngest and most supple virgin, then that’s just part of the process.”
“I meant youngest, but still of age,” Berman said brusquely.
Berman’s lack of tangible foreign language skills and the absence of any devoted interest in globalization have hindered his ability to get a program approved, but he claims that, “none of that school stuff matters, so long as I can find a bunch of loin-cloth wearing saps who believe that my war paint made of berries wards off evil spirits and that my ankle birthmark comes from being forged deep within the fires of the Earth.”
“Gotta get myself an ankle birthmark,” Berman added.
Further inspection of Berman’s personal belongings revealed that a tattered brown notebook labeled “Math” contained nothing but rudimentary characters scrawled in charcoal, presumably a book of prayers and incantations.
“Stop reading my book of curses,” shouted Berman, presumably talking about that book I just mentioned. He then ripped apart a plum with his teeth and carved a hieroglyphic symbol into his right arm with the pit.
“This seems to me a waste of resources,” said Professor Ian Lyons, Berman’s adviser. “Evan is a bright young boy, and spending months and months in a remote location just on the off chance that the inhabitants haven’t heard of Jesus seems like an unnecessary expenditure. And he can stay on campus and still have tons of sniveling girls follow him around and hang on his every word. It’s called college athletics.”
“Wooo, zing!” Professor Lyons callously added.
