A few pearls from a real life Cutter

I’ve always been a big fan of magicians never revealing their secrets.

What a novel idea. “I know something, and I’m not going to tell you.” You’ve got the upper hand. It’s like a mental keep-away. I love it.

It’s this kind of knowledge that separates people: magicians from spectators, geniuses from Purdue faculty members, or even townies from out-of-state freshmen.

Which is why I – a real-life townie or “Cutter” – am not going to reveal the Chamber of Secrets to Bloomington (that’s right, a Harry Potter reference). I’m not going to tell you where to study or where to bring a girl or the best places to tailgate.

What would be in it for me? Are you going to tell me where the best outlet mall is in that suburb you’re from outside of Chicago?

Instead, I will tell you what not to do in Bloomington. I’ve lived in Bloomington almost my entire life, so I think my advice could potentially be valuable. If not, I’m willing to settle for mildly amusing. OK, fine. Silent displeasure.

First off, observe parking signage. Having a car on campus is like trying to execute a Michael Scofield prison escape. You must move in constant fear. The parking enforcement agencies in Bloomington will hunt you down. On campus, you have to hide from IU Parking Operations, who roam by foot and bicycle like the high school hall monitors who had no friends and just got their first taste of power. Off-campus you have to avoid the blood-sucking mercenaries who run towing services. Trust me on this one: Don’t park at the downtown Taco Bell on Walnut Street. They will tow you, it will suck, and it will cost $160.

Second of all, I would be very careful, but inebriated, during Little 500. I’m sure you will have an endless supply of Keystone Light and Kamchatka – but the police will bust you if they catch you. Try not to act suspicious while walking from party to party or you’ll end up in the drunk tank.

I also wouldn’t spend my first few weeks in my room or the library. Instead, go outdoors. Because when it gets cold – and it will – you will go into full hibernation. At the very least, walk down 10th Street to Collins dormitory and see all of the crazy hippies chilling outside. It’s like Woodstock high on emo music.

I could write a short textbook on restaurant advice, but I wouldn’t see any money from the used books so it’s not worth it. But here are what the chapter titles would be:
Memorizing Mad Mushroom and Pizza Express’s numbers; Jimmy John’s is the Babe Ruth of Sandwich Places; The Art of the Dollar Menu; Marsh’s Fresh Ideas Aren’t Necessarily a Reflection of Its Produce Section; Living Off The C-Store; and, lastly, Yogi’s: A Restaurant I Wouldn’t Mind Being Buried In.

I don’t want to clog your brain with too much more so here are a few things to remember: You live in Monroe County; Bloomington’s mayor is Mark Kruzan; Bloomington has an east side (surprise); and try to avoid Martinsville, it’s almost as miserable as its reputation.

Follow these guidelines and you might or might not succeed, I promise. Try to meet people from Bloomington and have them help you sift through the rest. There is only so much I can tell you in this 600-word column.

And the rest I just don’t want to reveal.