Column:
Down the rabbit hole of Brady
Published April 18, 2008
Visiting Brady Commons always feels like a leap into the unknown for me. Even at 10:22 a.m., the time I began writing this, hordes of students fill the chairs and look around vaguely anxious, tired and often a little confused. Sure, there’s some laughter and some not-so-quality dining, but on the whole, it’s an incomparable daze of soulless humanity. More people continue to arrive by the second, and I can barely register how the place operates at noon.
I just came from the bookstore, which I visit about once a month to buy GQ, and witnessed a brief slice of life that reinforces this vibe.
This girl, first off, almost walked into me as I headed to the magazine section. That’s normal enough when you’ve got a thousand students bumbling around in one depressing compound. What caught me off-guard was the sheer depression on her face.
Even the checkout guy was scared.
“Bad morning?” he asked her when she walked up to student-charge something.
“Hm?” His words barely broke through her gloom.
“Long night of studying? Maybe some partying, eh?”
“Oh, that’s like the same thing.” A half-hearted laugh.
“Maybe grab yourself some coffee. Coffee ... it’s what’s for breakfast!”
On that note, I quickly wandered off to glance at pop culture books and the hipster handbook. In Brady, it’s virtually impossible not to overhear a million different conversations within a single half-hour. A few minutes of listening would give anyone a wealth of quotes for an Overheard in Missouri Web site. A constant buzz of conversation and movement drones through the corridors.
The food court might be the most lackluster spot in all of MU. During critical hours, it’s a battle just to find a table at which to drop. An odd funk permeates the air. Trash piles by the minute, and folks always have to stand ready to remove bags. I will say the best thing is the sheer diversity of student groups around and the random nature of the encounters. I recently ran into a guy from my high school I hadn’t seen for three years.
As you venture deeper, Brady gets more intense — whether you’re heading up or down the stairs. Downstairs you’ll first notice the folks passed out on couches, assuming people swarming you with flyers or cookies to sell don’t distract you. Past the big doors in lower Brady exists, like, every organization at MU. Major campus figures all converge here, and most bubble with constant enthusiasm and the verve of “leadership.” The watchful eye of Dave Roberts is always ready to assess risk.
Until this year, I never truly experienced much of Brady. University Bookstore beckoned every now and then, and I sometimes stopped in The Maneater offices when I was a freshman, but that was it. I lived in Mark Twain and never had a reason to hang there, really.
This year, office hours for Alternative Spring Break and meetings for a thesis led me to constantly visit what I consider mainland campus. Not a single one of my classes occurs at MU proper, making this even weirder. Normally I’m trapped in the Missourian building, Lee Hills Hall on Elm Street. It’s given me an interestingly nostalgic perspective when I’m hanging now at Memorial Union and Brady, and I’ve felt a bit like an alumnus here all year.
Fitting enough, considering I’m supposed to graduate in like three weeks. Maybe by the time I’m back in the fall for my grad program, a new and improved Brady will appear, though for now I’ll stick to Memorial when I’m on mainland campus.
