2C
Wednesday, October 17, 2018 // The Statement
A case study on pretending to be someone
you are not
BY SHANNON ORS, DAILY STAFF REPORTER
statement
THE MICHIGAN DAILY | OCTOBER 17, 2018
Managing Statement Editor:
Brian Kuang
Deputy Editors:
Colin Beresford
Jennifer Meer
Editor in Chief:
Alexa St. John
Photo Editor:
Amelia Cacchione
Designer:
Elizabeth Bigham
Managing Editor:
Dayton Hare
Copy Editors:
Elise Laarman
Finntan Storer
F
or a population that
bears the seemingly
perpetual
stress
of
finding a place to live near
campus, it is curious how college
students have such wanderlust
for the world beyond. The
evidence is glaring: World map
tapestries draped across dorm
room walls, screens of people
lustfully googling flights during
lectures and laptop stickers
with cliché adventure quotes.
This ubiquitous focus on
the next destination translates
to my own tendency to view
college as a four-year excursion
rather than a home address – the
feeling of being a tourist rather
than a permanent resident.
When I say tourist, I am not
trying to allude to the postcard
definition of a vacation with
palm trees and no reason for
an alarm clock. But rather, the
transient nature of the college
experience that manifests a
lack of permanence.
Of course, there are certainly
instances during which college
produces an intense sentiment
of
belonging.
One
could
argue football games provide
this
feeling
of
inclusion,
motivating even those who
don’t understand the sport.
For me, whenever I witness
college tours traversing the
Diag or squeaking through
the library I feel a rush of
pride and connection to the
institution.
The
entrance
of wary high schoolers and
eager parents into my purview
embodies a physical distinction
between tourist and resident.
I find myself standing up a
little straighter and relish my
affiliation with the University
of Michigan.
I
have
always
been
fascinated by the distinction
between considering yourself
a true resident of a place and a
fleeting visitor. It is why when
I am sitting at an airport gate
eating Cheez-Its and thumbing
through a magazine, I try to
guess who is a tourist and who
is a local of the destination
typed across the gate screen.
I quietly sit collecting the
empirical evidence of accents,
conversation
snippets,
appearances and personalities
contributing to my conclusions
of each traveler. My inferences
of who is a tourist and who is
a local are rarely confirmed,
but that is not necessarily my
ambition.
If
anything,
the
most
rewarding compliment while
traveling
is
when
people
assume you are a local. Visiting
a new place gives you a chance
to shapeshift, to be a chameleon
with the local crowd. At least
for a few days, you can imagine
yourself living somewhere else.
Some destinations are easier
to fake the criteria of being a
resident than others.
For example, in order to bear
the title of a true New Yorker,
the lore of the Big Apple states
you must have endured the
city for a decade. Not only that,
but the city conceals a list of
unspoken rules far beyond what
we learn from Buddy the elf.
These criteria should have been
enough to deter my desire to
look like a New York local.
When visiting New York,
you have two choices. You
can embrace the persona of
Times Square tourist — walk
in the middle of a sidewalk,
take a selfie on the steps of the
Metropolitan Museum of Art
and wear the most comfortable
shoes you own. Or you can
attempt to apply your education
of how to be New Yorker
learned from a curriculum of
“Sex and the City” and Nora
Ephron movies.
On this particular trip, my
friend and I opted for the latter.
We wanted to be effortless, to
blend into the gilded city. Our
moms thought we were crazy.
After
a
Sunday
morning
diet of bagels, we meandered
through Central Park, perhaps
one of the few landmarks
receiving the same respect from
both New Yorkers and tourists
alike. We had no idea where we
were going, but we tried to act
like we did.
An adorable family that could
rival Prince William and Kate
Middleton’s brood approached
us asking if we knew where the
carousel was. Confession: We
had absolutely no idea where
the carousel was. But this was
our chance for just one person
to believe we were New Yorkers.
That we belonged.
So, we played the part of two
girls who looked like we knew
how to navigate Central Park
and responded with a general
wave in the direction behind us.
Looking back, this was not the
most tactful decision. I honestly
still feel guilty about it. Our
own ego of an image blinded the
more honest answer. We were
responsible for leading this
idyllic Sunday morning family
in a direction we certainly
could not guarantee was the
location of the carousel.
The
moment
the
family
continued
onward,
mewy
friend and I ditched our New
Yorker status aspirations. The
image with which I had become
obsessed suddenly now seemed
utterly
ridiculous.
Karma
surfaced as we spent the rest
of the afternoon hobbling with
blistered heels as we regretted
not choosing a more practical
footwear option.
The transience of college
can easily aggregate a desire
to find a home or sense of
belonging beyond Ann Arbor.
The
wanderlust
constructed
from caricatures of jet setters
and adventurers often lead us
to want to assume a different
lifestyle, even if it is just for a few
days. Yet, the social dynamics
of these images can often leave
you feeling inauthentic — with a
side effect of bad blisters.
ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTINE JEGARL
“... in order to bear the title of a true
New Yorker, the lore of the Big Apple
states you must have endured the city
for a decade. Not only that, but the
city conceals a list of unspoken rules
far beyond what we learn from Buddy
the elf.”