Walking down an unkempt sidewalk, askew with cracks and weeds growing through the concrete, I passed the gas station on Sixth Street and ventured onto University Street, where I entered the campus of the University of Arizona. The campus buzzed with excitement; the first day of spring semester was upon us. I found my way to my first class of the day amid a sea of unfamiliar faces, most of who were sporting Wildcat paraphernalia in the form of T-shirts and hats.
Annoyance settled over me as I took my seat in the front row of my economic class, annoyance born of the fact that in spite of being a junior and way past all of the “101” classes, I was now seated in a crowd of nervous, excited freshman in Economics 101, a class that the university said I needed to take. The prospect of making friends in this class died a quick death in my mind; I was seeking friends my age that could at least go to the bar with me on occasion. No such luck for my first class of the day.
In the afternoon, I ventured into the student union and found the campus bookstore, which, logically, held Wildcat fanfare. As I walked down each aisle of clothing, nothing seemed out of the norm: T-shirts, hoodies and sweatpants all sporting UA colors. I was taken up short when I stumbled across an entire section of clothing with a singular theme: anti-ASU. Witty slogans printed upon T-shirt after T-shirt of anti-ASU material.
At lunch, I found a friend from high school in the cafeteria. Her surprise at seeing me was evident. We approached each other with the typical, overly-excited female hug.
“So you crossed over from the dark side and decided to join up with the good old Wildcats, huh?” were the first words from her lips after greetings were exchanged. Her group of friends, standing back a few feet, nodded simultaneously in agreement, and proceeded to tell me about how all Sun Devil women party too much and aren’t serious about their education.
I wandered around the campus the rest of the afternoon between classes, clutching a campus map and stopping people who looked kind to ask for clarification. Most responses to my asking directions were, “Are you a freshman?” My response was, no, I am a junior, baffled many. I felt obligated to explain that I had transferred. That brought, “Oh, from Pima Community College?” Along with my “No, from ASU.” After hastily explained directions in clipped tones, they departed in the opposite direction, and I was left on my own again.
Later, As I talked online with a friend from ASU, I told her about how during winter break I had moved to Tucson and UA. Her response was derogatory: “You know, I’ve known a few ‘Wildcat’ girls. They’re sluts. Don’t become a Wildcat!”
I felt torn; I wanted to be a Wildcat, but I had already spent a wonderful two and a half years living as a Sun Devil.
I realized my opportunity to fit in and make friends would have to be in either my Russian class or one other class I had late in the afternoon. I succeeded in obtaining a partner for a project, a partner I found out was my age. She was knowledgeable about the nicest hang out spots in Tucson, such as nightclubs, bars,and more. When telling her that I had just transferred from ASU, I was surprised to receive a nonchalant shrug and her saying, “That’s cool.” No animosity or negativity: score!
The downfall came when, shortly after our project was due, my newly obtained friend went AWOL on that class; the professor never heard from her, I had never thought to ask for her number and suddenly I was as alone again as I had been on my first day.
UA has its own version of Mill Avenue as well, which that short-term friend had told me about. There it’s called Fourth Avenue. Similar to Mill Avenue, Fourth Avenue is home to interesting bars and clubs with awesome happy-hour specials and university students. It’s dissimilar to Mill Avenue in that it gave me a feeling of discomfort with walking alone once the sun went down. But in a group? Loads of fun. The other strange concept I encountered on Fourth Avenue was that a vast majority of the bars also sported anti-ASU themes. I recall one bar - which was a classier one - had a large neon sign that read “ASU SUCKS.” I found it interesting that they resented ASU enough to go through the trouble of having a special neon sign made specifically for that purpose.
The animosity toward other schools was even prevalent among professors at UA. Many classes required a “clicker” which was synced with the classroom and allowed students to vote on answers to questions posted on the smart boards. One day, five minutes before my biology class ended, the professor posted a question on the board: “Who will win? A. Wildcats or B. Blue Devils.” About 2% of votes were for Blue Devils, myself being one of them simply out of an attempt at rebellion since I had no idea who the Blue Devils even were. Needless to say, both students and professors boo-ed anyone who voted “Blue Devils”. Lucky for me, votes were anonymous!
As I cross back over to become a Sun Devil once more, I have been welcomed with open arms. I receive questioning looks and inquiries as to why I ever even bothered trying out UA, but my answer always seems to remove the scarlet A from my chest: I moved to be near my long-distance boyfriend. The answer always suffices.
When I chose to try out UA, I did so without believing I would miss ASU. However, once I was there, I desperately wished to return to my beloved ASU. The University of Arizona is quite a beautiful campus, and seemingly less spaced-out than ASU. The only dilemma was that ASU had already taken up residence in my heart as home, and I never felt content during my six months posing as a Wildcat.
Reach the reporter at vbishop@asu.edu
