If you find yourself on a serious date with Van Pelt, there are a few rules you need to follow. It may not be as intimidating as Fisher Fine Arts, but VP definitely has its own etiquette.
Don’t dress to impress, but don’t dress like a slob either.
Van Pelt is probably one of the most SABS–y locations on campus when you’re getting your studying on. Aim for “bum chic”—it shows that you prioritize your paper above all else, but that if your future so happens to be buying a pepperoni and cheese cup at Mark’s, you’ll be ready.
This one speaks for itself. If you’re dying to eat those Flaming Hot Cheetos, make your way to the basement where moderate levels of noise are tolerated. If you’re dying to eat your smelly Wawa sandwich, leave. Van Pelt doesn’t want your kind.
Don't leave your shit for too long. There is an appropriate way to ask the stranger across from you at a desk to watch your stuff while you go to the bathroom, buy sushi or cry for a little while (or all of the above). But, if you stay gone for more than a normal length of time, don’t be caught off–guard if random stranger needs to leave and you end up as next year’s Public Safety’s theft sob–story.
Don’t be that guy who holds up the backpack line.
It happens every time. For whatever reason, Allied Barton security at Van Pelt must watch you unzip your backpack right before you exit. We have no idea why. Even so—speed things up and pre–unzip that shit. Bonus points if you can do it with one hand.
Keep talking to a minimum.
And on the sixth day, God created texting/e–mail/Facebook. For a reason. We understand if you have super important phonecall to attend to (i.e. interview, Mom, Jimmy John’s, etc.), but there’s no reason to let everyone else know. Take it outside. Take it to the bathroom. Take it the weird, little corner with the vending machines. Just whatever you do, take it somewhere else.
Photos by Faryn Pearl
