The Face of Dartmouth
Perhaps it was the smell of alcohol-fumed flames in the air, or maybe I had just smoked a bit too much of my one cigarette-per-year quota, but when I came back to school on Friday evening, Dartmouth struck me as some sort of museum piece. Finally I felt like I understood the town of Hanover, at least I thought, and its bizarre mix of college students and octogenarians who wear their pants at least up to their armpits. I think I now understand why some students fight to keep the school the same while others try to fight for improvements.