The Tribune

Montreal is a politically charged city in a politically charged province; even the most insulated McGill ghetto resident knows that. When put to the task, it is a good bet that most students could also tell you a bit about Quebec’s beef with Canada, Canada’s beef with Quebec, and do a half-decent impression of Jean Chretien (hint: as you’re talking, move your mouth like you are, in fact, chewing beef).

During a drunken night out on the town, no one thinks to question the political affiliation of his or her favourite street. Enjoying the bars on St-Denis? You might be promoting a military regime. Walking along Stanley? You could be a potential colonizing bastard.

The shiny brochures in the Welcome Centre may romanticize student life, but they cannot exaggerate this fact: McGill is a unique institution. As an internationally renowned, English university located in the centre of a French-speaking province, most McGill students come in contact with a tongue that they do not understand every day, whether it be French, Arabic or Japanese.

Don’t get me wrong- I love Frosh. What better way to start off the new academic year than to get magnificently intoxicated on lower field with thousands of your closest drinking buddies? Frosh is more than just a spectacle of drunken bliss; the organized drinking orgy certainly contains its moments of glory: sampling of a first years’ first beer (mmm.

ow. Ow. OW! Who replaced the florescent lights with pointy, pointy knives? These are the thoughts running through poor little Gordon-the-Freshman’s head the morning after his first night of Frosh week. If Gordon´s waking thoughts are any indication, he is well on his way to achieving Frosh-Success.

This is for all the U1 students out there who are finally discovering the joys of having their own apartments. Although you might miss the glory days of Rez, you will soon realize the far superior nature of living off campus. One of the hardest things to adjust to is cooking your own food.

It’s a common misconception that burglaries in this city occur exclusively at nighttime, when the windows are shut tight, the doors are barred and security systems are active. In fact, recently, home invasions in Montreal during the daytime hours have become less of an anomaly, especially in the suburbs.

In a vibrant city like Montreal, McGill students are constantly urged to get out of the campus “bubble.” There is even a student club called – surprise! – Outside the Bubble, whose sole purpose lies in integrating anti-social McGill students into the greater Montreal culture.

As hard-working McGill students endure an intense five-day long stretch of classes, assignments and meetings, the weekend eventually rolls around, offering sleep-deprived class-goers a break from the stress of everyday life. Unlike most McGillians, Jessica Margolis-Pineo’s work doesn’t end on the weekends.

Most students wouldn’t mind taking a day off from school, à la Ferris Bueller, but beating the system in university requires more complex tactics than those used by the quintissential high school slacker. For some undergraduates, a medical note is academic paydirt; a device through which they score extensions on – or even exemptions from – completing assignments, exams and other academic responsibilities.