LSU super fan and mathematics senior Matthew Clark can be seen cheering loudly on the sidelines of nearly every University sporting event. To get ready for the Sept. 30, home volleyball match against Tennessee, Clark gathers his LSU apparel — a gold volleyball shirt, purple and gold Mardi Gras beads and his trademark yellow wig — before heading out to the PMAC. Because he doesn’t own a car, Clark walks to almost every sporting event he attends, including the sports with stadiums on the far ends of campus. Once at the PMAC, Clark says hello and talks to several LSU Athletics employees, including volleyball coach Fran Flory, before grabbing programs to give the many students attending the match. Clark also takes this time as an opportunity to tell students about the Gold Diggers, the volleyball student section. Soon, Clark sits to watch the Lady Tigers’ warm up before the match, as well as to scan the program. Once the game begins, Clark intently watches the match and cheers loudly as the Lady Tigers take on the ranked Tennessee team.

As the perils of finals week crept up on him one semester, Matthew Hayes decided to lighten things up by walking around campus with flippers on his feet.

As expected, the flippers drew puzzled looks and questions from strangers. But they weren’t asking Hayes why he was wearing flippers, they were asking why he was wearing shoes at all.

Adorning his feet with anything is out of the ordinary for Hayes. The general studies senior stopped wearing shoes about two years ago and says his bare feet are such an eye-catcher that people he doesn’t know recognize him as the guy who goes barefoot — even on the day he was wearing flippers.

Hayes decided to shed the shoes after spending a semester working at an orphanage in Africa, where he admired the toughness of the children who spent most of their time without shoes despite the less than desirable ground they walked on.

“They had reason to wear shoes because they’re stepping on rocks, the roads aren’t paved, there’s bacteria on the ground,” he said.

Upon returning home to smoother, cleaner terrain, Hayes began to question the necessity of shoes and fully realized how great he felt without them.

“In a lot of ways, we as Americans have lost touch with a lot of things in our lives, and that’s what I enjoy most [about being barefoot] – it’s the beginning of regaining touch and just feeling where I’m walking and where I am,” he said.

Mathematics senior Tommy Naugle felt the same sense of awakening when he began going barefoot in spring 2009.

“You have a new sense, feeling the tactile pleasure of the ground,” Naugle said. “Imagine having to go through your whole day wearing gloves. That’s what wearing shoes is like for me.”

Of course, even the most avid shoeless student can’t realistically go without shoes all the time. Hayes said he’s been kicked out of The 5 and 459 dining halls for being barefoot, so he wears shoes where required, including at work, in retail stores, in bars and, after learning his lesson, in dining halls.

But he still spends most of his time sans shoes, including in class.

“On campus last year I wore shoes under 10 times all year,” Hayes said.

Most of his professors don’t mind. Some think it’s funny. But he does have critics, including his mother.

Hayes said when people have a problem with his bare feet, he apologizes and explains he dosn’t mean for his feet to upset anyone.

“It’s not a thumb at anybody. It’s a personal choice,” he said.

People taking offense is the only thing Hayes says ever makes him wish he was wearing shoes. He said that’s because it truly is about his own personal comfort and not meant to communicate a message to anyone else.

“I don’t even personally want it to be a statement,” he said. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

Naugle never intended his bare feet to be a statement, either. In fact, he so badly didn’t want it to be a statement that he was driven to put the shoes back on after about nine months.

Being barefoot on campus put Naugle center-stage no matter where he went. He often felt swamped with questions and confusion from people who wondered why he never wore shoes. Some people were fascinated, while others poked fun. But the omnipresence of it all was too much for him.

“Walking through the Quad when class is out and everyone is there, you can hear people laughing,” Naugle said. “You don’t know whether they’re laughing derisively or because it’s interesting. But that’s the point. You drive yourself crazy over who’s making fun of you and who’s interested.”

Despite the strangers who were genuinely interested, all the attention was maddening enough that Naugle decided to go back to wearing shoes – a decision he hated making.

“It was miserable because I just felt like everybody else won,” he said. “It was still something I wanted to do 100 percent, but weighing that against having to deal with the stares, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

But the stares and questions haven’t deterred Hayes – he’s still observing his shoeless existence. And not only has it made him happier, it’s made him a little tougher, too.

One of the biggest challenges of going barefoot was adjusting to losing the protective barrier shoes gave his feet from the little pains of the ground. But Hayes said he quickly adjusted.

“If you step on one rock, you notice that one rock. But then you get used to stepping on rocks and you don’t notice them as much,” he said.

Naugle also endured an adjustment period when he first stopped wearing shoes, feeling the sting of things like a hot sewer grate baking in the sun.

“After two weeks, you can walk on any surface,” he said. “Eventually you can get to the point that you can sprint on gravel parking lots.”

Though the feet can adapt quickly to unprotected exposure to the ground, going barefoot isn’t the best idea for physical health, according to Baton Rouge podiatrist Christopher Formanek of Footsteps, LLC.

Formanek said losing the shoes won’t cause new foot problems, but it can worsen hereditary issues with the feet when they manifest later in life.

“You’re not born with foot problems, it’s something [that develops]. But you have to have the genetic recipe to acquire that,” Formanek said.

For people with that possibility, going barefoot can exacerbate foot issues they’re already predisposed to and which don’t often surface until late in life.

“Younger people don’t have as many complaints as adults. When you’re getting into college, the foot is still developing,” Formanek said.

But some say there are benefits to be mined from going without shoes – or wearing shoes that make it their business to feel like they don’t exist.

More common across campus than totally bare feet are Vibram FiveFingers, small footies with a separate slot for each toe. The shoes are sold at Varsity Sports, and sales associate Adam Carlisle says Vibrams – which differ from being barefoot by only a thin sliver of rubber to protect the foot from glass or other dangers – can provide benefits for the feet that are lost with wearing shoes.

“They strengthen a lot of tendons in your foot that you’re not using normally in a regular shoe, which you should be using. Your body is designed to use your feet,” he said.

The disadvantage of many shoes, Carlisle said, is in the way they’re built, with increased padding on the heel that is thicker than the rest of the foot. This can encourage people to strike the ground with heavier than appropriate impact on their heel rather than the ball of the foot, which changes body mechanics during a run.

“With a shoe, they put a lot of cushion on your heel, so you don’t realize it’s not natural to run that way,” Carisle said.

But Formanek said Vibrams also cause lots of problems. He’s seen an increase in patients who are treated for stress fractures as a result of the unsupportive shoes.

But the podiatrist did admit there are cons to shoes, too. One example is runners who often develop black toenails from the constant trauma that comes from toes hitting the inside of the shoe.

“There’s advantages and disadvantages, but overall, shoes are better,” he said. “There are mostly pros to wearing shoes.”

Hayes hasn’t missed the pros to shoes. Going barefoot has made his feet feel stronger, tougher and more muscular, he said. But any physical benefits are secondary to the feelings that come with baring his feet.

“It’s touch – that’s a big thing we’re starting to lose in this modern society. I like being barefoot because it feels like it’s getting closer to that – not that it’s accomplished it by any means,” he said.

photo by Emily Slack

Recently, Baton Rouge has witnessed a rising tide of homegrown musical talent.

For years, the capital has been passed over in light of its cooler, older sister city, New Orleans, which boasts a wealth of cultural history.

Baton Rouge, however, has started to come into her own with an emerging and thriving musical identity.

Paired with the Crescent City and the surrounding areas, the indie music scene in South Louisiana has found its voice, able to stand toe-to-toe with whatever is thrown against it.

To celebrate the area’s talent, Legacy and KLSU present a compilation of 16 local acts everyone should know and watch.

To download the featured music for FREE click here.

Read. Listen. Enjoy.

Christoph Andersson

Monsters Will

Twin Killers

He Bleeds Fireman

Royal Teeth

Caddywhompus

Shoelace

The Have-Nauts

England in 1819

The Widowers

Sun Hotel

Baby Boy

Matt Cee

Thou

Prom Date

Cohen Hartman and The Bone Machine

After a glance over his shoulder, just long enough to make sure he isn’t being watched, he sticks the poster to the wall — a three-foot-tall menacing carrot chasing a black and white bunny.

With just a couple more brushes of adhesive across the front and sides, the 22-year-old mass communication senior seals in his artwork, gathers his materials and hurries off, leaving his mark on an otherwise normal stretch of wall.

For over a year, this piece could be seen near the Dalyrmple exit off of I-10. But in January, the poster, along with more than a dozen other graffiti pieces that speckled the walls underneath the overpass, disappeared behind a coat of gray paint.

This is a common occurrence in the back-and-forth struggle between artists and those who oppose the controversial and illegal artwork.

Voice for the Voiceless

While graffiti has existed in some form for thousands of years, its modern form as a work of art is a relatively recent phenomenon, said graphic design professor Paul Dean.

Dean said graffiti began to emerge as an art form in the late ‘60s in large urban areas like New York City and Los Angeles as a reaction to modernism of the first half of the century.

“I like to refer to it as ‘Emily Postmodern,’” Dean said. “Advertisements and buildings were all nice and sleek and perfect; graffiti came as a nice break from it. It didn’t follow any guidelines; it was messy and unorganized.”

According to Susan Ryan, art history professor, the major historical rise of street art took place in the 1980s, when illegal street “writing” was popular in urban centers among poor inner city youth.

These street writers in New York would break into subway car barns and write on or tag trains, usually with elaborate word-based images, like the ones still popular today, Ryan said.

Ryan also pointed out that street art, including performance art, has  existed since the 1960s.

Today, the umbrella term “street art” applies to a wide variety of works, including stencil graffiti, sticker art and poster art — often called wheatpasting. On occasion, the term will also include traditional graffiti artwork, but a distinction is normally made, Dean said.

“Artists who work ‘in the street’ act in opposition to the institutionalized art world,” Ryan said.

As these early writers and street artists of the ‘80s drew attention, their influence began to spread outside of New York City, eventually finding a way into Baton Rouge.

Pioneers

Vos-1, who asked to be identified by his “tag,” remembers some of the first tag in Baton Rouge.

“In those early days, we would go out and buy shoe polish and do these terrible tags all around LSU. That was the first stuff,” Vos-1 said. “When we started, there was no scene at all in Baton Rouge. It was a lot of us hanging out on Chimes Street, skateboarding.”

Vos-1 said it all started when he and a friend who goes by the tag Rek, started tagging in high school in 1992 after catching sight of the graffiti coming out of New Orleans.

“We weren’t even trying to start a scene. We just thought it was cool and wanted to paint,” Vos-1 said.

As the ‘90s progressed, Vos-1 said he remembers wanting to tag more and more, like using an addictive drug. He and Rek would stay for hours in the LSU library reading about subway art, trying to pick up the style that was going on in New York.

Between ’93 and ’94 alone, Vos-1 and Rek spray-painted more than 60 pieces across Baton Rouge, some of the first works in the city, he said.

“When we started, stencils and wheatpasting didn’t even exist,” Vos-1 said. “It has changed a lot into what it is today.”

Vos-1 said the graffiti world has become more laid back in recent years, and has changed from people vandalizing property to people who actually care about making art.

“Some guys got into it just to vandalize stuff,” Vos-1 said. “I didn’t get into it to destroy anything. I did these things because I wanted a voice. I wanted to say, ‘Hey, look at what I created.’”

Vos-1 has watched the scene grow, and even though the 35-year-old has moved out of Baton Rouge and now co-owns a business, he still paints and occasionally tag trains. He boasts that in 2008 he marked more than 5,000 trains.

“The scene right now in Baton Rouge is small and too influenced by outside stuff, but it’s healthier than it has ever been,” Vos-1 said. “There were many, many years when there may have been maybe two guys who did stuff when they got drunk.”

Bunny

“Graffiti is art for the masses,” Peter said. “No one owns it. It really is art for the pure sake of enjoyment.”

While growing up in McComb, Miss., Peter first developed a taste for street art in high school, when he first tried his hand on a stretch of “free wall” — a piece of wall set aside to legally “tag.”

Peter continued to draw and paint for personal artwork, but decided to try street art again, this time with wheatpasting.

Under the cover of darkness, Peter and a friend – along to take pictures for an LSU class assignment — went out to paste up the Dalrymple “bunny and carrot,” as well as two bunnies on utility poles on State Street — a star-patterned one and another dressed as an astronaut.

Each poster starts as a 5-foot piece of thick paper that Peter paints, spray-paints and details before cutting off any excess, a process that normally takes a little more than an hour, he said.

When it’s time to put up his poster, Peter stops about 15 yards from his chosen spot — this time a utility pole on the corner of Carlotta and State streets. He ducks down in the shadows so that passing cars won’t notice the man spreading contact cement gel on the back of the paper with a brush.

“That stuff isn’t easy to spread,” Peter said. “It takes a few seconds to put on, but it does the job well.”

After checking to make sure no cars are coming down the street, Peter runs up to the chosen spot, and hastily slaps down the bottom section of the paper and begins to smooth it out, being careful the piece doesn’t fold in on itself.

Suddenly a car rounds the corner, and headlights come into view. Peter immediately stops, throws his hands into his pockets and casually walks away from the poster. As soon as the car has passed, Peter returns to finish.

Once the piece is firmly in place, Peter goes back over the work with adhesive, still watching for cars. Again, lights come into view; Peter drops the can of glue and walks away. He isn’t sure if this will be the one with flashing lights and a high-beam spotlight turned on him. The car passes without incident, and Peter quickly finishes up.

He walks across the street to admire his work, pleased with his latest creation, a bunny in an astronaut suit with a small rocket in the background.

“It’s making the ugly beautiful,” Peter said. “I like to see a bit more color in the world. All the places I’ve put stuff up have been public places, big gray walls. It makes them more interesting — beautiful.”

Line between Anarchy and Art

Louisiana law states, “It shall be unlawful for any person to intentionally deface with graffiti immovable or moveable property, whether publicly or privately owned, without the consent of the owner.”

The law also states that anyone convicted of criminal damage to property where the damage is less than $500 is liable for a fine up to $500, jail time for up to six months or both.

If damage exceeds $500 but is less than $50,000, the offender can be fined $1,000, face a two-year prison sentence or both, but most street art does not exceed this.

Sgt. Don Kelly, spokesman for the Baton Rouge Police Department, defined criminal damage of property as anything that interferes with the enjoyment of one’s property.

Sgt. Blake Tabor, spokesman for LSUPD, said LSU goes by this Louisiana code and the penalties are the same, but an LSU student could also be reported to the dean of students and face consequences through the University.

Both Tabor and Kelly said LSU and the city did not have a graffiti problem beyond the occasional violation.

Peter said he realizes that what he does is illegal but still enjoys doing it for the sake of art, but he concedes that he would never tag private property.

For him, posters offer a cheaper and easier cleanup if needed, something he knows won’t cost $500 to tear down.

While Peter was about to begin work on placing the Dalrymple poster, a police cruiser pulled off the interstate and slowed down after seeing two dark figures next to the wall.

“All that was going through my mind was ‘Oh crap, oh crap,’” Peter said with a laugh. “I could just picture my family’s faces when I told them I had gotten in trouble.”

Peter said he threw down his materials, and he and his friend quickly sat down, pretending to be homeless, his heart beating a rapidly.

“The cop turned on his lights and just pulled up next to us and told use we couldn’t sleep there tonight,” Peter said. “He just drove off after saying some expletive about us.”

Peter was able to finish his project.

A year later, the carrot and bunny has vanished behind gray paint.

Although he could not confirm the Department of Transportation and Development was involved in the graffiti removal, Bud Cage, a DOTD engineering tech, said it was not unusual for one of the department’s crews to go out and remove graffiti.

“[Painting on interstate walls] is defacing state property with graffiti,” Cage said. “It may be open to the public, but it is illegal if there is no permission to paint, hang signs or posters.”

The Gray Ghost

Fred Radtke is known in the street art scene as an outspoken opponent of graffiti in New Orleans.

In 1998, Radtke started Operation Clean Sweep, a non-profit organization that removes graffiti from businesses and personal homes for the city government for free. Since he began, Radtke and his team of volunteers have painted over or removed more than 15,000 graffiti tag in New Orleans.

Known as the Gray Ghost – because of the gray paint he uses to cover over all forms of graffiti – Radtke even caught the eye of Banksy, an English street artist who has become  of a star in the graffiti world. In 2008, Banksy arrived in New Orleans to complete a series of paintings and to challenge the Gray Ghost, whom Banksy claimed to be a “vigilante.”

Radtke sees himself as just a man who “loves the culture and city of New Orleans and wants to keep the city clean.”

Radtke claimed he has no personal feelings toward street art designs he removes and even feels that some of the artists who do graffiti are talented but have found the wrong outlet for their art.

“There are many factors involved, but the bottom line is it creates a perception of crime,” Radtke said.

Radtke said graffiti depreciates property and is just the first step to harsher crimes in areas if it appears that no one cares about their surroundings, even going as far as hurting the tourism industry.

Part of the problem of graffiti, Radtke said, is there are no boundaries, and street artists create their own rules and agendas.

“[These agendas] create chaos, and when you have chaos it isn’t art. You just have people doing whatever they want to do.” Radtke said. “Where do you put that line? The line between anarchy and art.”

Radtke said he makes no distinction between the graffiti he takes out. For him, if there is no license — in New Orleans an artist can purchase a $1200 license to paint a public mural — it is illegal, and he is enforcing the law by removing it.

“God bless them for beautifying a space,” Radtke said. “But they have to go through the rules. If we allow one person to get away with it because we consider it nicer than others, then what is to stop someone else from thinking, ‘Well, why can’t I?’”

As for the Banksy pieces, Radtke met Banksy’s challenge, and the paintings have since disappeared behind a coat of gray paint.

Fresh, Never Rotten

Marc Verrett has also been on the receiving end of the Gray Ghost’s anti-graffiti quest.

The Baton Rouge street artist, who goes by his artist name Marc Fresh, has put up posters, spray-paint and stickers from Lafayette to New Orleans and has seen several of his works in the Crescent City disappear under gray paint.

Verrett, who does most of his work in Baton Rouge, believes that graffiti has a place as art but recognizes the criticism it brings up.

“It depends on what you do,” Verrett said. “The more severe, the more you’re f***ing up something, then yeah it’s vandalism. People have that mentality, though, that whatever it is, it’s vandalism.”

A 2004 LSU art graduate, Verrett, 29, has been doing graffiti and street art since he was 16, when he was first introduced to the art medium by friends in his high school art classes in his hometown of Slidell.

In those 13 years, Verrett has used his art to propel his own “brand name” through his posters and “tags.”

“It’s kind of like a popularity contest,” Verrett said. “You have guys trying to put up more stickers and stuff than others, but it really comes down like a kind of advertisement.”

Verrett said graffiti is a way of life. It’s a way to advertise himself, display his artwork and get people interested in other paintings he does.

“The fun part comes when you never know if people have seen it,” Verrett said. “I love to see how long it takes to hear about a piece I put up. I just wait for people to come back and ask me,  ‘Was that you Marc?’”

Iconic

Icon, who also wished to go by his tag name, has made a name for himself around Baton Rouge with his posters and stickers over the last decade.

Icon, 31, came to Baton Rouge from Shreveport to attend LSU as a graphic design student and graduated in 2003. It was here that he first started to develop his art.

“When I found out about street art, it resonated with me,” Icon said. “I had always wanted to make more art, but I guess I couldn’t find the right avenue. It’s the free aspect about it that hit me. I guess I’ve always had some anti-authority streak.”

Icon said it took him a while to develop his identity and style through “trial and grow,” but he likes where his art has led him and the way it has developed. He has since become best known for his bespectacled, fez-wearing, mustachioed gentleman.

“I see a lot more people talking about my artwork then I knew,” Icon said. “It feels like Icon is a lot bigger than I thought it would ever be, but I like to stay anonymous. It’s the face of the brand, not my face that is out there. I’m not trying to be famous.”

Icon has used the momentum from the popularity of his brand to open his studio and shop, Bricks and Bombs, which he hopes will help pull street artists together in Baton Rouge. While he continues to put out new posters and work, he has slowed down in recent years and would like to see new artists come out.

“When we were 19 to 24, it was easy to do this stuff all the time,” Icon said. “It gets tougher as you get older. You grow up and take on more responsibilities and can’t take as much risk.”

He said, while he may not do as much as he once has, street art still carries the same philosophy: It’s about freedom of art and expression.

“Messages don’t hinder or drive me, but it would be naïve to think that street art, in itself, doesn’t have a message,” Icon said. “It’s really powerful when used, and it speaks to people whether positive or negative. For me though, my agenda is to have fun with it. No messages, just art.”

*At his request, we did not reveal Peter’s last name.

Photography by Grant Gutierrez

Tune into Tiger TV at 7 pm on Thursday (Feb. 17) and catch “Your Source.” The program will include a half-hour special about LSU Budget Cuts, followed immediately by J Hudson’s “State of the University” Town Hall.

Join us Thursday night in the Holiday Forum, or catch the show on Tiger TV (campus channel 75)

Submit questions for J at yoursource@tigertv.tv

Photographs by Hilary Scheinuk

Trent Johnson, men’s basketball head coach: The one thing I would change is keeping our campus and city clean. Enhance our campus and make it more beautiful. The latest and newest buildings — and clean.

Van Chancellor, women’s basketball head coach: I would make all of our budget worries go away with the stroke of one hand on a big check. But, the one minor thing I’d do is I’d get a different system for faculty parking on campus. That thing with the wand is the most aggravating thing I’ve run into.

J Hudson, President, SG: I would use the money to pay for every student’s tuition. I know that a lot of students have a hard time paying for college, so I would alleviate that by paying for their education.

Mike Martin, Chancellor of LSU: The first priority would be to hire a cadre of outstanding young faculty. If the faculty is strong and committed, we will attract and inspire the best students and garner national, and indeed, international recognition.

Astrid Merget, Executive Vice Chancellor and Provost of LSU: I would invest in people. I would particularly invest in faculty to retain and recruit the best and the brightest of scholars to not only educated the next generation but also to advance knowledge and help develop solutions to pressing problems. People make a university work. People are the core of it and it’s really the faculty who are the intellectual, academic and professional energy that animate the institution. And in turn, they recruit the students.

Paul Mainieri, baseball head coach: I would give free tuition to all students so that anyone that is qualified and wishes to attend LSU would be able to do so financially!

Michelle Franklin, Tiger Trails bus driver: I would try to work on traffic. Make more crosswalks, especially when it gets busy, like when y’all change classes. They just jump off the sidewalk.

Jake Fontenot, biological engineering junior: Probably just tear it down and start over. Or if I could genetically re-engineer professors, that would be awesome, too.

Tabitha Bullman, psychology senior: Give us the availability to rent books instead of buying them.

Wayne Caneza, general business sophomore: I wish exams were two weeks. I hate cramming five tests into one week.

Ray James, political science senior: I would finish the f***ing Union. I want to see it finished before I graduate. I seriously doubt that will happen, but it would be nice if they would finish it, but they’ll probably just start over again.

Joseph Moody, biology and Spanish junior: Tuition. I would subsidize people’s tuition on a need-based scale.

Jordan Ward, sociology senior: The rats. Get rid of the rats. Years ago they got rid of all the cats — but now we have rats.

Vickie Ryan, Campus Federal Credit Union teller: Variety of better food.

Joseph Alleva, LSU athletic director: I would create a huge endowment so LSU would not be dependent on state funds and could grow into one of the elite schools in the country.

Jack Weiss, chancellor, Hebert Law Center: I would spend money to recruit and retain outstanding classroom teachers, especially those who teach a substantial number of students.

David Cronrath, dean of College of Art and Design: There are so many things that LSU requires. My top priority … build a dome over the campus to protect us from the weather and the legislature.

Eric Reid, assistant director of parking, traffic and transportation: Being a former track athlete here at LSU, I would help build a world class track stadium. Our track program has won more Division 1 NCAA Championships than any other university in the nation (the last time I checked) and we need a venue to continue to recruit top athletes. Our current track will take a facelift soon, but we do not have any locker rooms for the athletes to shower and change. We have the state-of-the-art football, basketball, baseball, and now softball venues, and the time has come for a new track and field venue.

Jay Geagham, chair for experimental statistics: The administration.

John W. Grubb, director for College of Basic Sciences: Accessibility. Traversing this campus is extremely difficult. Ramps are poor (not all but some), railings are often blocked by bikes, or missing altogether. There are buildings without elevators, restrooms that aren’t accessible at all. At any point in our lives, any of us may become impaired and need the facilities, ramps, handrails, et cetera. [They seem like an inconvenience] to those not requiring them, [but] are a necessity to anyone who does.

Sarah Lawson, editor of The Daily Reveille: Bring back all the cut degree programs, finish the Union in two weeks and start a cooking school!

Olivia LeBlanc, chemical engineering junior: I wish that they would finish all construction before starting any new projects. For example, the Union should have been finished before this new business building (that is so unnecessary) was started.

Payton Boyer, art history junior: Skating rink. Definitely a skating rink.

Luke Tant: Les Miles. 25. Dr. Moshe Cohen, mathematics doctoral graduate (May 2010): Summer storage of student stuff. Students moving out of the dorms could donate dorm furniture in good repair for incoming students. This could reduce waste and save students money.

Amanda Glinky, May 2010 Microbiology graduate: I would like a better system to keep tenured professors in check. Some of the worst teachers that I’ve had at LSU were tenured, making it practically impossible for them to be removed from their all-mighty positions of authority. I understand that research is important, but first and foremost, faculty should be here for their students. Without students, you have no university.

Nicholas Johnson, history and German junior: I would like the recently cut foreign language programs to return.

Amanda Muhleisen, management senior: Make it so I don’t have to sell my organs to pay out of state tuition.

Charlotte Cox, Storyville manager and photography graduate, May 2010: I would update the dark rooms in the photography department and allow more money for ink.

Nicole Bower, education masters student and barista at Highland Coffee: I would keep all the online library databases open.

Cindy Stevens, owner of Cindy’s Creations and producer of LSU ribbons at Tiger District and LSU Bookstore: Make more visitor parking. There’s nowhere to park if you’re not a student. It’s the worst thing ever.

Mary Wygle, hostess of The Chimes: Put more focus on the art department.

Butler Murrell, manager of The Bicycle Shop: Separate bicycle and pedestrian traffic.

Hillary Thompson, general studies senior and hostess at The Chimes: Get more classes. I have trouble scheduling every semester. And bring back the women’s and gender studies department.

John Hoover, manager of Raising Cane’s at Northgate: Make football games affordable again, whether that means making the stadium twice the size or lining someone’s pockets.

Benjamin Eckel, computer science graduate student: Buy more tigers, fire more teachers.

Daniel L. Williams, photography senior: Burn it down and rebuild sandellas.

Rene Abythe, photography senior: Have the Magnolia Room lit by candlelight.

Barrett Allen, mass communication senior: I would do two things: Renovate the Huey P. Long Fieldhouse building and develop some sort of film and TV major for the College of Art and Design to tie in with the growing Louisiana film industry.

Coty Engler, psychology junior: I’d improve draining on Highland so students aren’t required to step in two feet of water on the way to class on a rainy day.

Jared Nuss, general studies senior: Stop raping us with budget cuts and tuition and fee increases. My butt hurts.

Laurel Keys: I would implement a serious and effective sexual assault prevention and treatment program complete with bystander prevention strategies and sane nurses.

Phillip Arceneaux, communication studies and international studies sophomore, section leader in Tiger Band: Reserved parking for LSU Band and cheerleaders on game days.

Samuel Dell Lockhart, English junior, Southeastern student who attends ROTC at LSU: Reserved parking for ROTC Cadets. We go through a lot already, it would be nice to be able to park in faculty parking or something.

Michelle Johnston, marketing junior: I’d probably build a bunch of parking garages. Living off campus — it’s such a big ordeal to get here.

Dr. S. S. Iyengar, computer sciences professor:If given an unlimited amount of money, I would marshal all of the available resources to the further hiring of young, dynamic, and innovative faculty and the placement of these faculty in areas of high-priority.

Dr. Denise Newsome, resident for equine practice: More hands on teaching labs for veterinary students to get them out of the classroom and into real life.

D-D Breaux, gymnastics head coach: I would do three things. First thing — I would build a modern, safe gymnastics training center. Second thing — I would build a new recreation center for students, faculty and staff to rival Alabama. Why should we not have that as good as Alabama? Third — I would tear down Middleton Library and build something to match our beautiful campus.

Clift Baradell, interior design junior: I would like to know that the money they use for higher education isn’t subject to budget shortfalls. That’s the biggest problem at this university. It shouldn’t be affected by this.

Katrina Andry, studio art master’s student: I would really make the old engineering building a proper facility for people who have to use it. It’s where all the art students are. There’s no air conditioning … it changes the way things come out. Like, you can get bird shit all over your stuff.

Gaines Foster, interim dean for College of Arts & Sciences: It’s such a strange concept at the moment [having money]. I’m struck by the need for more faculty and more graduate assistantships. That translates to more classes and choices for students.

Yvette Girouard, softball head coach: I would fix up the facade of all the campus buildings, just make this place a world-class facility. The grounds are already like that, but the buildings need it.

Hanna Munoz, public relations: I’d upgrade everything, like the bathrooms.

Jaclyn Rivera, human ecology sophomore: I like sitting in places like [right outside the Design Building]. It’s hard to find quiet places outside to study.

Joyce Jackson, associate professor for department of geography and anthropology: I would hire more professors of color and recruit more students of color.

David Chicoine, assistant professor and anthropology undergraduate adviser, department of geography and anthropology: Elevate the whole state of Louisiana, so when sea leavels rise we won’t be underwater. Just kidding — I would secure the employment situation and expand departments and hire new faculty, invest in programs and assistantship programs, buy a big blimp that says “Geaux Tigers,” cover Mike the Tiger’s cage in gold, maybe also build an above ground metro system to link LSU to the rest of Baton Rouge. I would probably hire another football coach, maybe even have three football coaches.

Brajesh Gupt, physics graduate student: Funding certain departments. Engineering has a lot less funding than others. Physics of course [would get the most].

Christopher D’Elia, School of the Coast and Environment dean: I would want more endowed professorships and scholarships for students in science, technology, engineering and mathematics to deal with the increasing challenges of providing energy and environmental quality for society. We cannot neglect these issues any longer.

Beth M. Paskoff, dean of library and information sciences: I would fully endow the University so that salaries and all other expenses are covered.

Natalie Mault, assistant curator of LSU Museum of Art, Shaw Center for the Arts: I would allocate funds to improve and strengthen academic departments and expand to allow new ones. I can’t help but think how wonderful it would be if an academic institution were able to strengthen its departments as opposed to being forced to make cuts.

Kirby Goidel, associate professor of mass communication and political science: Free football tickets for faculty, no more grades or grading, and a moratorium on committee work.

John T. Caprio, professor of biological sciences: Have the state provide the appropriate funds to allow LSU to remain in the top tier universities and make sure these funds are protected from other state expenses.

Donald R. Marchiafava, engineer with Facility Services: Get the professors back and people laid off and start those classes back up to keep our educational system up to par.

Patrick Carnahan, music education senior: We should get a huge food court in the Union.

Tom Livesay, executive director of the LSU Museum of Art: Put the LSU Museum of Art on the first floor of the Shaw Center.

Robert Stewart, managing editor of The Daily Reveille: Finish all construction, and give juniors and seniors Easy Streets passes.

Jacy Rawls: Fee bills would cease to exist for everyone.

Samantha M. Alleman, English/creative writing senior: For [LSU to offer] those majors and classes that everyone wants but we don’t have.

Will Monson, graphic design graduate (May 2010): Create programs that get students more involved in local business.

Mary Helen Hayes, library sciences masters student: [Create fewer] cases of adding things and more of preventing subtracting things. Keep student services, [library sciences], especially.

Steve Watkins, associate professor of chemistry: Put it all into student scholarships.

Kate Renken, geography Ph.D. student: I would change the Tiger Athletic Fund to make it accessible to academics.

Elizabeth Benton-Levith, animal sciences junior: I’d fund the Equine major that was proposed, approved, but can’t move forward because of the budget cuts.

Samantha Dupaquier, civil engineering junior: I would increase LSU’s efforts in commitment to community and increase the impact of LSU’s community service in Baton Rouge.

Tiffany O'Neil, a Southern University undergrad student with fiancé, Nathan Prince, and dog, Mickey in their home. Photograph by Tabitha Austin

What’s in a marriage?

Sociologist Andrew Cherlin calls it “the capstone experience” of one’s life. LSU graduate instructor Jensen Jeung argues that “much of how we conceptualize marriage and families are social constructions … we create the meanings.”

We have created many meanings. Within marriage we find pageantry, genealogical associations and the like. But if we take a holistic approach, we find something more.

Life is change in motion. Time would stop without change. People change, as do the bonds between them. The institution of marriage is the interaction of these adaptations. Its meaning is a moving target, complex and variable, much like those who find themselves in its throes.

Looking Back

To unwrap the meaning of marriage, it’s important to know where it came from. History tells us the earliest humans married out of necessity, often banding together with other tribes and even intermarrying to strengthen their chance of survival. We still have the same basic needs, but surviving today has become a more complicated affair.

Jeung often teaches from Cherlin’s book, “Public and Private Families,” which depicts the 20th century as a major turning point for the institution of marriage.

As technology improved through the early 1900s, so did our need to flock to it. We saw a cultural shift from rural to urban areas. Industrial capitalism promised a more automated lifestyle. The ensuing improvements to an electronic society made life more convenient, and we began considering marriage differently, down to its fundamentals.

Jeung says the emphasis used to be placed on male authority, with strict conformity to social norms. Romantic love was not as important, and one certainly saved sex for marriage, as it was seen only as a means of producing children. Males were the heads of the households, and women were submissive. If one was unmarried, he or she may have been viewed as “defective” or living an incomplete life.

The 1950s ushered the baby boomer generation to the peak of the self-explanatory “breadwinner-homemaker” model. The ones you see from “The Golden Age of Television.” Automobiles were mass-produced, people started moving around and the courtship process expanded to include dating. Teenagers became more susceptible to premarital sex as they found more freedom from their parents, Jeung says.

Harsh Dissanayake, chemical engineering undergrad, uses Skype to stay in touch with his fiancée. Photograph by Tabitha Austin

Modern Marriage

“Public and Private Families” tells us when these teens grew up, so did the concept of marriage. The new “companionate marriages” placed greater “emphasis on affection, friendship and sexual gratification. Every parent thereafter was raised in the dating system, which became less connected to marriage through the 70s.”

Women more frequently pursued their educations, tilting the balance of gender power in their favor. An increase in pre-marital cohabitation, in tandem with women entering the workforce by the droves, caused both marriage and divorce rates to rise. It also served as catalyst for the upheaval of the traditional marriage construct, Jeung says.

Today’s “individualized marriage” focuses on self-development, flexible roles and open communication. This can reveal life paths previously impossible when considering the potential of the Internet’s intricately-woven human network. Partners may even skip the marriage process entirely, opting for a “union” or simply cohabitating. Why do people still marry at all?

The Free & The Brave

There must be some reason. According to Cherlin, 90 percent of Americans still tie the knot. Formalizing the link with a ring, he notes, lessens the fear of abandonment and permits enforceable trust.

Today, it’s become common for both spouses to have jobs. This “dual-income earning” model allows couples to pool their resources, an option that requires boundless faith and trust, but one Jeung says is all but necessary to sustain a family at the high cost of living comfortably.

Bethany Berry acknowledges this within the context of her arranged marriage, but doesn’t find it the only route to a healthy, successful relationship. Berry is a 30-year-old University of Houston graduate of Nigerian descent with a degree in special needs/deaf education. She’s planning for graduate school at LSU to concentrate on religious studies. She’s 21 years younger than her Caucasian husband, whom she didn’t meet until their marriage.

Berry was Muslim at the time they were married. Her husband was Christian. She felt an arranged marriage “was the only way to go,” as do many women within Islam. Berry converted to Hinduism afterward. She says the change caused some grief around the holidays, but likens the change to a face-lift, where the spouse may “get used to the new person you’ve become. It allows you to explore new dimensions of each other’s self.”

Berry is a staunch supporter of the breadwinner-homemaker model. She works at Jimmy John’s, a sandwich chain on Perkins Road.

“In my marriage, I’m the only one working and my husband stays at home. I would prefer it to be me staying at home, but right now the economy favors women working more so than men.” Berry’s husband, Matt, was laid off three days after Christmas, “so we just decided to change roles,” she says.

Alex Romero, fashion merchandising junior, expresses that marriage has become a grey area in society. Photograph by Tabitha Austin

Alex Romero is a fashion merchandising junior at LSU with another flexible perspective. “I think even traditional marriage has lost its way,” Romero says. He finds TV shows are good signifier of modern culture and sees some disquieting trends among them.

“It should be a covenant between a man and his wife, but now you have marriage shows where they compete to throw the most lavish wedding,” he says with concern. “Where are the values in that?”

Romero spoke further on parental roles within modern gay marriages, saying, “I know there is a lack of a mother/father figure in a gay couple household, but that isn’t to say that a gay couple cannot raise beautiful children who will make a difference in this world.” Romero said. “It’s all about the values one has to pass on to their children that makes the difference and what they teach their kids.”

Berry and Romero aren’t the only ones with unique takes.

Tiffany O’Neill knows what it’s like to be different. The 19-year-old Southern University student is daughter to a black mother and white father. She is currently engaged to Nathan Prince, a Caucasian graduate student at LSU. Her parents’ mixed marriage continues to help lay the foundation for her own, and their warmth cannot be overstated for a couple who anticipates a frigid reception from others.

“It was a fight for them to even get married,” O’Neill said of her mom and dad. “No one told them what it was going to be like. It was special for us to know we could call someone who went through a similar experience. Love is supposed to be so simple – the purest and simplest thing we have – and it’s a shame when people have to fight about wanting to love each other,” O’Neill said.

Cherlin discusses cohabitation before marriage in his book, a decision it says can raise the chances of a pre-marital break-up. O’Neill understands the risk involved and remains assertive in her commitment to what marriage represents.

“No matter the good or bad times, rich or poor, if you’re going to marry someone, that person becomes your number one,” O’Neill said.

For others, marriage is a spiritual rite, bearing the fruit of a meticulous group effort. Harsha Dissanayake, a 22 year-old from Sri Lanka is studying chemical engineering at LSU while his fiancée Dhanushya Amaratunga remains at medical school in Sri Lanka, a predominantly Buddhist society. The two hope to marry and cohabitate after graduating.

“Back in the day,” Harsha recalls, “the parents pretty much decided everything. They’d talk with the girl’s parents and look at the astrological side of the relationship. How can they relate here, you know? How do they match up?”

While the groom-to-be says couples today enjoy greater autonomy in the decision making process, he faithfully seeks his parents’ counsel because “they’ve gone through it all, and they know what it takes to work long-term.”

Getting hitched may have health benefits, too. As reported in recent literature, Jeung tells us, being married causes people to feel better and live longer.

“Sure, at first it may be based on physical attraction, but after several decades, you’re left with what’s inside. What do you see?” Harsha rhetorically asks. “People need to get their reasons right.”

We may all be in different situations, but our ideas may overlap. If O’Neill really is right, and love really is supposed to be simple, Berry may have found it in abundance.

“At the end of the day, I can come home and I have a nice face that is happy to see me and is interested in knowing what I did during the day. It’s nice to know that someone cares what goes on in my life and what happens. And living with them is a plus,” Berry says.

I Now Pronounce You…

At times we forget marriage wasn’t always like it is today. There are also no guarantees it will stay like this forever. We must not view this evolution of marriage as a digression. It’s just a change, a reflection of our mercurial culture. Sometimes we don’t recognize the changes right away. The point is to not pigeonhole ourselves into a certain rationale toward marriage, as history shows us its fluid nature.

As life paths open for us, we’re encouraged to become our own people. Time only moves forward and gracefully carries those most adaptive to its subtle contours. If we can do that, and be honest with who we are, Jeung concludes, we may find today’s individualized marriage creates the possibility of a fuller life and a more equal partnership for both spouses.

While her child is raped, the opiates in Momma’s veins spread, drowning out her child’s cries. While the pedophile’s murmurs wash over the little girl, Momma counts the dollar bills and nurses fresh scars.

Salvaging her daughter’s childhood is as futile as assuaging her tears.

Sex trafficking is one of the many faces of modern slavery, and it is happening in our own community. Natalie LaBorde, second-year LSU law student and founder of Tigers Against Trafficking, fights daily to rescue human sex slaves in Baton Rouge and beyond. LaBorde said she believes student action is necessary in the effort to free these victims.

“I love Tiger Stadium, but there are more important things to rally 90,000 people around,” LaBorde said.

Baton Rouge is no stranger to sex slavery. Victims of domestic trafficking are people we see everyday — a mother, a teenager down the street or a child runaway. LaBorde said she believes it is difficult for students to find the time to care about the community’s needs while juggling work, school, friends and their futures.

“In the midst of all our own personal pursuits, we have to make a conscious decision to acknowledge that slavery still exists and that we have a part to play in helping those who are enslaved,” LaBorde said. “It’s a long-term commitment, much like that of so many heroes who initiated change in areas such as slave trade, universal suffrage and civil rights. No doubt their lives were busy, but they did it any way.”

LaBorde became attuned to global slavery while living in Sydney, Australia after her graduation from LSU in 2007. She attended events that highlighted human trafficking and eventually went on a research trip, visiting shelters, rehabilitation centers and brothel districts in Europe, Asia and North America. LaBorde said she encountered a 12 year-old girl rescued from a brothel in Phnom Pen, Cambodia. She was 11 years old and pregnant when authorities found her. When LaBorde met her, she was carrying the baby on her hip like a sibling — something LaBorde said she will never forget.

When LaBorde returned to Baton Rouge for law school, alumni Jeremy Beyt and Sarah Kaiser, two of her best friends from her undergrad years, partnered with LaBorde in her mission. Since then, the trio has aimed to mobilize students into local anti-trafficking programs and spread their vision around the United States.

This effort, called Tigers Against Trafficking, was born in October 2008 to raise funds for and connect with the A21 campaign — an anti-trafficking program out of Greece that seeks to “abolish injustice in the 21st century” by benefitting women and children victims. Annie Dollarhide, marketing and communications manager of the campaign, said funds provided by TAT have helped aid the construction of a new halfway house for women rescued from sex trafficking.

LaBorde said the release of the 2008 movie “Taken,” starring Liam Neelson, helped draw valuable attention to the human sex trade. The film recounts a teenager’s journey overseas and her consequent abduction — a realistic teaching tool for LaBorde’s message of awareness and action to combat trafficking.

In March 2009, TAT hosted a 5K walk and run. More than 360 students participated, raising $10,000. TAT raised an additional $7,000 at a benefit concert entitled “Be Their Freedom” in October 2009, which more than 400 students attended. All funds went directly to the A21 Campaign.

TAT has inspired similar organizations at other Louisiana campuses, including the University of Louisiana at Lafayette’s Cajuns Against Trafficking and Southeastern University’s Lions Against Trafficking.

“Ideally I would love to see this replicate all over the U.S.,” said Kaiser, one. “And I’m not just talking about awareness. That’s important, but what’s the point of making someone aware without doing anything about it?”

LaBorde said Baylor University, Kentucky University and the University of Toledo are following in LSU’s footsteps and creating their own anti-trafficking groups.

The Dream Center, located at Winbourne Baptist Church at 4829 Winbourne Ave., serves individuals and families within our city limits, many of whom have suffered exploitation. Members of TAT volunteer at the center’s primary outreach known as “Café,” which provides clothing, groceries, medical aid and other services to impoverished families and homeless members of the community on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m.

The Rescue and Restore outreach serves victims of many backgrounds, including ex-prostitutes, homeless teenagers who have traded sex for a safe place to sleep and single mothers who have sold themselves to support their children.

“There is such a broad definition of what trafficking is,” LaBorde said. “But at its roots, it is sexual exploitation.”

The mission of the Center overlaps that of TAT, according to LaBorde. Many of the women who pass through the doors have been victims of the sex trade. It is not uncommon to hear tales of women sold for sex by their husbands and lovers or kept in submission by local pimps. The outreach programs aim to provide victim assistance.

Charity Trahan oversees the homeless youth at the Dream Center and said she encounters women and children who have been coerced into the Baton Rouge sex trade. Although Trahan has never been trafficked herself, she said knowledge is the most valuable tool to reach out to victims.

“People think that if they have not been victims of trafficking, they cannot be someone that victims can relate to,” Trahan said. “But if you are educated about the topic and genuinely care, people are going to trust you. Anyone who is informed can make a difference.”

Trahan said she hopes the center will be recognized as an alternative to a life of prostitution — a safe location for homeless youth to gain job and education opportunities and consider a home. In the community’s low-income areas, Trahan said pimps and pedophiles flourish because there is more opportunity to exploit kids from unstable homes.

Trahan, who has worked with the center since October 2007, said child victims of trafficking are easy to spot in the homeless community: They are the majority, and affiliation with the sex industry is often inevitable. Trahan said sex trafficking is a business that caters to the sexual demands of the community. Although cases of female sexual abuse are more commonly reported in Baton Rouge, young boys are also victims of sex slavery, prostitution and exploitation.

“In a crowd of homeless youth, you think about one or two have been trafficked, but it’s actually the opposite,” Trahan said. “Those who have not been bought or sold for sex are the minority.”

Trahan said children raised in sex trafficking are either killed or eventually abandoned when they no longer make enough profit for their pimp. Sex is often all they know, and without any skills or proper education, many support themselves with prostitution. The center often sees women in their 20s who are seeking to pull themselves away from a life of sex, some of whom were sold by their parents as young as 8 years old.

In East Baton Rouge Parish, members of Trafficking Hope are currently aiding a female high school student allegedly being forced into prostitution by an ex-boyfriend – just one example of slavery in our midst.

“There’s no 40-year-old woman who wakes up and says, ‘I’m going to prostitute myself,” Trahan said. “They started at a young age. It’s a life they recognize as normal.”

LaBorde agreed that homeless children are especially susceptible to domestic trafficking, with reported cases of children forced into intercourse ranging from 12 to 14 years of age.

“The term ‘child prostitute’ does not exist,” LaBorde said. “I have always had preconceived notions of what a prostitute was, but that was before I became involved with this.”

As a part of the center’s Midnight Outreach, volunteers meet each month to bring roses to the women at four Baton Rouge strip clubs. The roses bear the center’s information and provide opportunities for groceries, clothing or further education, such as the center’s GED study sessions. LaBorde said one woman kept 13 roses as a reminder she could pursue a life without stripping.

LaBorde said she believes the program helps remind the women that they are cared for and respected within the community. However, the center also seeks to reach women who are potential victims of trafficking.

“You have to find an entry into the girls’ lives, to connect with them and develop a relationship.” LaBorde said. “You never know the situation someone is in. Anyone could be a victim.”

Trafficking Hope, a campaign funded by the federal grant Rescue and Restore, seeks to identify, rescue and restore victims of sex and labor trafficking in the cities spanning the I-10 corridor from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. TAT has partnered with Trafficking Hope, alongside several other organizations receiving the funds. Both programs aim to educate the public on sex trafficking in America and internationally, and provide outreach to communities where people are living at risk.

LaBorde talked about a recent interview with a teenager who came to the center. She was living on the streets, and after discussing the girl’s living situation, LaBorde asked if the girl had ever traded sex for shelter. She had. Trading sex for a dry, warm place to stay is something LaBorde said she believes the homeless community has accepted as a way of life.

“They do not label it by saying, ‘I am being trafficked,’” LaBorde said.

Charlene Merrill, a driver for the Dream Center’s homeless youth outreach, said prostitution is not a choice, but a matter of survival. Kids under the reign of a local pimp are initially attracted by the financial security, the attention they receive, whether negative or positive, and fear of not knowing how to survive the streets on their own.

Mass communications junior Jennie Armstrong became involved with TAT because of her desire to pursue a career in human rights law. Armstrong said she believes every effort she puts into TAT, however small, strengthens the crusade against human trafficking.

“We can’t just sit back and live life in our pretty little apartments when [trafficked] women are being beaten and raped,” Armstrong said. “Knowing what I know, I can’t live my life without helping.”

Beyt said his battle against sex trafficking is personal, as he fights on behalf of the victims as he would for his own loved ones.

“You think about a sister or a daughter and see the big numbers,” Beyt said. “If that was someone in your own family, then all of a sudden it would be a big issue.”

Freedom is our anthem as students – a chance to define lifestyles, decisions and the parties in between. But millions are enslaved on the planet, hundreds in our own backyard, and LaBorde believes it is our responsibility to combat this concern and embrace the millions who live in shackles.

“We all have something, whether it’s our time, our talents, or our finances, that we can use right now to play our part in combating human trafficking,” LaBorde said. “Get up off your asses, stop playing video games and make a difference.”

Look both ways before you cross the street. Buckle up. Safety first. These are the sayings we’ve heard all of our lives. Growing up we had our parents to hold our hands and keep us safe. Now that most of us have left the nest, those childhood lessons seem like a thing of the past when faced with a hectic school day.

Instead of relying on mom and dad to watch out for us, the University has taken several measures to care for its students – all 26,000 of them. With the addition of Easy Streets and the constant surveillance of the LSU Police Department, the University strives to keep students safe. Even with several precautions, no system is perfect. Not even Superman has a perfect track record. Many accidents on campus are minor. However, “freak” accidents – and some not so freaky – can occur to remind us that we aren’t super heroes.

Imagine taking a stroll to Mike the Tiger’s cage. It’s a nice, sunny day. The weather is so perfect you forget about the test you have next week or the paper due the following day. As you make your way to see Mike roaming safely in his habitat, disappointment spoils your mood as Mike is nowhere to be seen. You look around but the jungle cat cannot be found. You begin to walk away frustrated. Suddenly you hear something that makes you freeze in a cold sweat. You turn around slowly to see the “tame” cat staring you dead in the eyes. Mike reverts back to his primal instincts and makes short work of you, leaving you in pieces as a mid-afternoon snack.

Not many of us would ever consider the likelihood of becoming one of Mike’s meals. Despite the low odds, this is a possibility. Many dangers lurk around campus that could send you six feet under.

On Campus:

1. Being mauled and eaten by Mike the Tiger. As imagined earlier, the possibility of Mike breaking free from his restraints and roaming campus for a meal is always a possible reality. Just ask Roy Horn from Siegfried and Roy.

2. Falling down the stairs. Running late to class can end badly when you slip down the stairs with nothing to break your fall but solid concrete.

3. Getting hit by a car. We’ve all had that experience where mother’s words of wisdom about looking before you cross the street seem to fail us. This absent-minded mistake leaves some with a near-death experience and others with the last experience. No one has died on campus from this, yet.

4. Rabies from a squirrel attack. Cute and cuddely, but just as deadly. A lethal combination from a nut-loving critter.

5. Run over by the new bus system. We all love riding the bus to avoid driving to campus. We don’t all love the bus riding us. Luckily there haven’t been any accidents thus far.

6. Hurricane. On August 29, 2008, Hurricane Gustav hit Baton Rouge, leaving the University closed for two days and full of damages. Gustav claimed 48 lives in Louisiana, according to the National Hurricane Center. Deadly 100 mph winds, trees crashing, and grounded items taking lift make these forces of nature no walk in the park.

7. Heat stroke while walking to your car. Body temperatures can reach up to 105 degrees Fahrenheit before a heat stroke, LSU’s Agriculture Center reports. This makes your skin feel like it’s melting as you walk across the commuter lot.

8. Eaten by zombies on Zombie Day. Dawn of the Dead. Need I say more?

9. Books falling in Middleton library. Finding research for a paper becomes a game of survival when 1,000 books come tumbling down on you like an avalanche.

10. School shooting. The University was reminded of how real of a threat shootings can be on December 14, 2007. Chandrasekhar Reddy Komma and Kiran Kumar Allam were gunned down in the Edward Gay Apartments. Let’s also not forget the terrible tragedy that occurred on April 16, 2007 at Virginia Tech that left college students in shock.

11. Falling from various buildings. When being bold and trying to have lunch on the Union instead of inside it turns you into sidewalk art.

12. Being bludgeoned to death by Quidditch players. Inspired by the Harry Potter novels, LSU boasts its very own Quidditch team. “Quidditch is a very violent game,” explains Sarah Kneiling, president of LSU’s Quidditch Club. “Hitting people in the face with a bludger is common, and actually kind of encouraged in the rules,” said Kneiling.

13. Jumping a car. Trying to help your friend’s car start in the commuter lot can leave you needing a jump from defribillation paddles when the battery explodes in your face.

14. Chemical explosion in science lab. Tyler Durden from Fight Club, demonstrated the feasibility of turning soap into nitroglycerin. It is all too easy for a simple miscalculation to leave the University’s chemistry lab – and yourself – in ruins.

15. Accident from union construction workers. Not only is the Union getting renovated, but so could your face with any mishap.

16. Gators in the lakes. What lurks beneath those dark waters of the LSU lakes? Could we have our very own Creature from the LSU Lagoon?

17. Light falling in Swine Palace. As the chandelier proved deadly to the Phantom of the Opera, so too can a loose light kill an unsuspecting member of the audience.

18. Tasered by paranoid female. Don’t sneak up behind a girl who’s taken Self Defense 101 and armed with voltage. “Don’t tase me, ho!”

Residential Life:

19. Armed robbery. There have been a reported 347 robberies in the past three years, according to LSUPD’s crime statistics.

20. Carbon monoxide from heaters. Kyle Oser, a 22-year old senior at LSU, died last January from carbon monoxide poisoning, reported the Advocate. “Nearly 500 Americans die suddenly in their homes from carbon monoxide (CO) poisoning,” according to the LSU Agriculture Center, giving new meaning to silent but deadly.

21. Computers exploding in the lobby. Many of us rely on laptops to take notes in class and to study for the big test. However, these technological gifts can turn their backs on us. The New York Times reported a Dell computer suddenly exploded in Japan in 2006. Also, MacBook Pros have had several problems of overheating and catching on fire, according to Bit-tech.net.

22. Elevator crash. Any old, elevator on campus could transform into the Tower of Terror in the blink of an eye.

23. Gangrene from the showers. Remember to wear those shower slippers, or you could get athlete’s foot, which can turn into gangrene when left untreated.

24. Spoiled food from the dining hall. Every few years there seems to be instances of food turning deadly. The E. Coli spinach outbreak in 2006 is one example.

25. Catching an STD. “Baton Rouge ranks fourth for AIDS case rates among the largest metropolitan areas in the U.S.” according to the Baton Rouge AIDs Society.

26. Being fried in a tanning bed. With tons of off campus apartments offering free tanning sessions, the classic Final Destination death scene is primed to become a reality.

27. Serial killer. LSU is no exception of being terrorized by its very own serial killer. In 2003, Derrick Todd Lee was convicted for killing seven women.

28. Grease fire from community kitchen. A residence hall would not be complete without its community bathroom and kitchen. But all it takes is one resident trying to be Emril to set the entire dorm ablaze. Bam!

29. Crushed by food or drink machine. There is nothing more frustrating than having that favorite candy bar dangle inches away from you, unless that vending machine topple onto you.

30. Living in Kirby Smith. Enough said.

UREC:

31. Weight dropped on your head. Simple exercise can turn deadly with just a slip of the hand. This past September, USC’s running back Stafon Johnson was seriously injured while bench pressing.

32. Getting caught in the treadmill until your skin is ripped off. One fall, that’s all.

33. Falling from the rock climbing wall. Always make sure your harness is secure before you start pretending to be Spider-man, or you may end up on your back with the lights fading to black.

34. Aneurism while trying to “max out.” Pushing it to the limit has never had more disastrous results.

35. Basketball goal falling on you. Slam dunk of death.

36. Falling from the running track. You’ll go from the slow lane to the fast lane when you topple over the barricade that separates the running track from the hard wood basketball courts below.

37. Attacked by “roid rager.” With steroids becoming more and more prevalent in today’s society, anyone could become a casualty of a “hulked out” user.

38. Freak blender accident at Smoothie King. A healthy snack can become a deadly one in a matter of seconds.

Sporting Events:

39. Alcohol poisoning. The highest recorded Blood Alcohol Content level on campus was a 0.462. Anything higher than a 0.45 is considered lethal, according to Major Helen Haire, LSUPD’s commander for special services. Keep that in mind when your buddy keeps yelling “Jager bombs!”

40. Beaten to death by crazed visiting fans. We turn visitors into Tiger Bait for every home game, but watch out when they decide to turn you into dead meat.

41. Barbeque pit explosion. No better way to show your manhood than by the coveted past time of grilling. Except when a pit full of lighter fluid turns you into barbeque.

42. Electrocuted by T.V. set-up. The ultimate tailgate turns into the ultimate flash fry.

43. Trampled to death by stampeding crowd after a stunning win. The last time the student body rushed the field was back in 2000, when the unranked Tigers went on to beat the No. 11 ranked Tennessee Volunteers in overtime. When you have thousands of students stampeding, someone can be left on the ground. Not unlike that unfortunate Wal-Mart employee who got trampled to death last year on Black Friday.

44. Thrown from Tiger Stadium. It’s not called Death Valley for nothing.

45. Falling scoreboard. Yeah, the new scoreboard looks amazing in Tiger Stadium. But you won’t be saying that when you are crushed in high definition.

46. Foul baseball. Better bring your glove to the game and hold it up when that wild foul ball comes barreling right for your temple, otherwise it will leave you as a faithful departed.

47. Stabbed by a broken bat shard. Think bar fight at Alex Box Stadium.

48. Struck by lightning on the golf course. Lightning loves open spaces and metal. “Some 50 years ago, a couple of LSU Field Camp students were struck and killed near the Camp gate,” according to LSU’s Geology Department.

49. Hit to the head by a golf club. Criticizing your buddy’s wild swing can leave you down for the count when his driver connects with your skull.

50. Arrowed by the Archery Club. Going medieval.

Clearly disturbing and bizarre things occur right here on campus. So the next time you feel invincible, remember those paternal words of wisdom. If not, that 50-foot crane fixing the Union could leave you a splattered mess.

See more photos from this story.

Zombie Day was created after the group was disappointed with the University and the Baton Rouge community’s Halloween spirit.

“When we think of Halloween, we think decorations … swarms of kids in costumes … You don’t see that anymore,” said Adam Rabalais, graphic design alumnus.

“[We may] be trying to recreate a Halloween that never actually existed,” joked Matt Rabalais, painting and drawing senior.

To create the holiday spirit, the boys decided to treat campus with a Halloween trick. Three years later, Zombie Day serves as a creative way for students to celebrate. Participants gather on the Parade Ground and march through campus in a huddle of groaning zombies.

“We kind of cover everything in the heart of campus,” Adam Rabalais said. “[Walking past] the library is really fun because the entire back is glass … and we have people run and look.”

The brothers call Zombie Day, a “light prank,” but there are rules to ensure safety and fun for everyone. Some rules include: no running, no touching on-lookers, participants must be sober and blood from a flesh wound can’t dribble on the sidewalk.

Between 50 and 150 zombies participate in the annual event. With a mob this large, there are some interesting traits and characters. Adam and Matt Rabalais explained how the “sea of zombies” gravitates towards a pedestrian all at once, with increasingly loud groaning.

Matt Rabalais said the “crowd gets a mind of its own.” Acting as the mob, arms outstretched in a zombie voice the group says, “Pe – eeeee – ople.”

“It’s kind of a contradiction,” his brother added, since zombies don’t have “minds.”

The two said each year there’s a zombie that stands out from the rest.

A Michael Jackson “Thriller” zombie — dressed in the red tracksuit donned by Jackson in the music video — once brought his own stereo and performed the dance in its entirety throughout the night. They also mentioned another exceptional zombie, in fact the youngest Zombie Day participant ever.

This 1-year-old zombie may have been carried through the zombie walk but still knew how to get into character. Matt and Adam Rabalais were impressed with the baby’s growling.

“[The baby] was a trained little zombie,” Matt Rabalais joked.

When asked about his costume, Adam Rabalais said he wears a different themed outfit every year. Matt Rabalais, however, said he’s always his “zombie self,” as it is, of course, “the most realistic costume.”

Though some may feel a herd of brain-eating zombies is a troubling sight, Ann Harris, theater senior, claims she has seen something creepier. Freeze The Quad is the Feb. 19 event to which Harris is referring. Here, students and faculty froze in unison for five minutes in the quad.

“The eeriest part was when the bell tower started ringing,” Harris said about the bell sounding over a suspended mob.

Freeze the Quad was the brainchild of Harris, Rebecca Stewart and Casey Miller. Harris was inspired by flash mobs she studied in a theater class, such as Improv Everywhere and the Guerilla Girls.

Harris, Stewart and Miller had two weeks to plan Freeze the Quad and used Facebook as their only publicity tool.

The event started out invitation only, but as interest grew, Harris felt she had to open it to the public. By Feb. 19 there were 269 people “attending” the event and more than 1,000 “maybe attendings.”

“It’s such a testament to social networking and social media,” Harris said.

Of the army of freezers, there were a few that stood out to Harris and students who passed by.

She remembered a boy who brought “a Lord of the Flies style” conch shell. He blew into the shell when it was time to freeze and again to mark the end. Others froze hopping onto a bike, high fiving and an injured student froze dropping one of his crutches.

Harris, who froze with a video camera, remembered the various reactions pedestrians had to the living statues. Some on-lookers tried to rouse frozen participants, while others tried to assist students who dropped items as they froze. Harris was impressed with the participants and feels they did a great job holding their poses.

Since Freeze the Quad, Harris, with the help of Stewart and Miller, has created That Improv Group at LSU — which in the plural spells T-I-Gers. TIG is not an official organization and is run via Facebook. There are 120 Facebook members that have taken part in several shenanigans on campus since Freeze the Quad.

The Where’s Waldo? Where’s Wanda? event on April Fool’s Day consisted of one TIGer dressed as Waldo from the children’s book series and another as his female counterpart Wanda. Disguised in the familiar red and white stripes, pranksters lurked around campus and were approached by 56 TIGers and students who knew the secret phrase “Are you lost?”

The latest TIG gag, a spontaneous game of dodgeball, kicked off the fall semester on Aug. 31. Perfect weather attracted many students to the Parade Ground on the second Monday of classes, but only around 25 students were actually acting as agent TIGers. When the bell tower struck noon, TIGers took to the field and waited for the end of the alma mater to start.

The upper classmen wore gold while the lower classmen wore purple. One member refereed the game, sporting a standard striped shirt, cleats and whistle. The players brought comically shaped balls and plush toys to use as grenades.

Harris said there was “definitely some smack talking” and that things got “heated,” because of high stakes on the game. If the Gold team lost Harris, the team captain, would walk around campus on Sept. 1 dressed in a curly blonde afro and tacky costume.

If the Purple team lost, captain Paul Leinlang, theater performance sophomore, would dress like the Teletubby, Tinky Winky.

Harris said she felt a mixture of “dread and excitement,” when she had to wear her “get up,” to her Tuesday classes.

Though the “babies” defeated the “old farts,” Harris still feels the battle was epic. When speaking of the intensity of the game, Harris said at least one TIGer was hit in his “special bits.” Harris said the match, as apposed to the freeze, was less about drawing a crowd and more for TIGers themselves.

“[Improv] doesn’t have to be ‘Whose Line is it Anyway,’” Harris said. “It’s kind of an adrenaline rush because no matter what you do, it’s going to be a complete surprise.”

Harris has several antics in mind for TIG, including a dancing homage to Michael Jackson.

Harris also has the dream of starting a Southeastern Conference Freeze, where University students and those at other SEC schools all freeze simultaneously.

While keeping an eye out for TIG’s stunts, you may be distracted during finals by nearly nude joggers. This post-finals moment of euphoria is the Undie Run.

University alumnus Antonio Christina is the creator of the biannual LSU Undie Run. The University of California, Los Angeles’ Undie Run inspired him to bring the event to LSU.

The first Undie Run was held the last Saturday of finals in 2006 and has marked the end of each fall and spring semester since. There are usually around 100 scantily clad runners.

“[It’s a way] to blow off steam from class,” Christina said.

He said the Undie Run has a “good atmosphere” and students should feel free to participate because runners can donate clothes to the Battered Women’s Shelter of Baton Rouge.

The run starts at the fountain in the Quad and ends at Mike the Tiger’s cage. Christina joked that there was a detour through the Indian Mounds that was cut from the route one year because of out of shape students.

“Not everybody was pretty,” joked Joseph Harvey, landscape architecture sophomore, who participated in the spring Undie Run.

Harvey felt the Undie Run was a “really fun” way to show school spirit. He also made some lasting memories that evening with his friends.

“My friend had underwear with smiley faces on it and wore a big yellow hat … it was really funny to watch him run down the street,” Harvey said.

Christina said the date of the Undie Run will change this fall. It will now be the Saturday before finals. He doesn’t feels this will hurt attendance as the Undie Run gets “crazier each semester.”

Christina feels the event is a “new LSU tradition.” Harris and the Rabalais brothers share this feeling of school spirit and providing an escape for students.

“We are … advocates for never growing up. [People say] ‘Oh we gotta study’ which is important … [but acting] like you did in elementary school is very important,” Adam Rabalais said.

Illustrations by Caroline Boudreaux

“You don’t have a dick to work with, you know? I just don’t know how to dance for girls,” she said.

Two guy friends and I had gotten a private room with Melissa for $300 an hour. We spent the majority of the time conversing with the dancer as she moved from lap to lap, making her way down the sofa. On the club floor, customers are not allowed to touch the strippers, but in the rooms, anything uncovered is fair game. Melissa was only wearing a small black thong.

She seemed comfortable with us, and (considering the circumstances) our conversation was absurdly mundane. We discussed female body image, and Melissa complained that the club owners encouraged her to lose weight. My male companions dismissed the idea and told Melissa that guys like girls with some curves, “a little something to hold on to.”

“That’s what I tell them!” she insisted. “But other than that, I really like my job. It’s good money and good hours.”

I asked her if there were ever times when she didn’t like her job. “Well, sometimes in the private rooms you have guys get on top of you and try to hold you down,” she told me. How did she get out of these situations? She replied bluntly, “You scream.”

I returned to the same strip club a few weeks later. There was no cover charge, so I walked through the door and had a seat at a small circular table at the back of the room. I was the only one in the club other than the employees. The club had two stages, each with a pole and mirrored wall behind it. All the chairs faced forward, waiting to be occupied by a lusty club patron.

Within a few minutes, a petite stripper wearing a Catholic schoolgirl outfit approached me. “You’re looking for people to interview?” she asked, sitting down in the seat next to me. “I’m Liz.” She extended her hand in introduction.

An elementary education senior at LSU, she strips because she needs the money. She also works two other jobs.

I asked her how much money strippers typically make. “It really just depends,” she responded. “I don’t know what we make per hour. I don’t think we make anything.” Liz said she makes about $70 in tips from stripping, but she normally tips those out to the bartenders, DJ and bouncers at the end of the night. The real money is made in the private rooms on the second floor — partitioned areas blocked off from public view. She told me she charges $300 per hour for a private room but can make up to $600 on a good night.

Liz explained that she makes almost all of her money from regulars. “Thank God for my regulars!” she said emphatically. “I don’t know what I’d do without them.” I asked her what usually goes on in the rooms. She said that usually the guys just wanted to talk to her. Liz acknowledged the sexual component of her job, but she seemed to think that arousing customers was secondary to their need for conversation. “I have guys who will talk to me about their divorces, their ex-wives … they just need someone to talk to. I think I represent something pure for them, like maybe something from their past or their younger days,” she said.

She explained that her regular customers are mainly older men, but she doesn’t feel uncomfortable dancing for men three times her age. “I don’t like it when younger guys come in here, or girls. They don’t really have any money to spend.”

I asked her if guys ever tried to do inappropriate things with her in the rooms. “Well, sometimes …” she trailed off, her eyes darting to the voice recorder on the table. “You really want me to say?” I nodded.  “Sometimes they try to cum on me,” she said.

I asked her how she responded when this happened. “I just leave,” she replied simply. “You don’t have to stay if they’re doing something wrong.  You can sort of tell when it’s about to happen so you just get up and leave.”

She told me keeping boyfriends with this job was often difficult. “I used to have a boyfriend and he was fine with me stripping, but then he found out that I had regulars who come to see me a lot, and he wasn’t OK with that,” she said.

However, Liz said the other girls in the club serve as a support system. “I’ve gotten close to a lot of the girls here. I’m really close to her,” she said, nodding in the direction of a girl onstage. “My roommate works here too,” she added. Liz said she likes to keep her work life and private life separate. “My roommate hangs out with all of the girls after work, but I don’t really,” she said with a shrug.

Liz refuses to see any of her customers outside the club, but inside the club she has to keep them wanting more. “My regulars always try to take me out to dinner, and they want to see me outside of the club, and I can’t just tell them, ‘Don’t you understand I’m not interested?’ because then they wouldn’t come back and see me,” she explained.

Throughout the interview, Liz was patient with my (often awkward) attempts not to offend her. She looked me straight in the eye when she spoke and when the conversation fell silent, she would offer more information to keep our dialogue afloat. She seemed interested in me, and even asked me several questions about myself. Despite her schoolgirl outfit and 5-inch heels, she was everything an elementary teacher should be.

A few weeks later, I traveled to New Orleans to try to speak with other exotic dancers. I walked into a small strip club on Bourbon Street and took a seat on a red velvet couch in the corner of the room next to the stage entrance. I watched a college-aged girl walked past me toward the stage. She was wearing a black swimsuit top, a tiny, black, pleated skirt and pink-and-black, knee-high socks. She disappeared through a doorway that led to the stage, but as the music began, a different girl appeared on the raised platform. A few seconds later, the girl in the pink and black socks emerged from the doorway looking perplexed, then disgruntled. I made eye contact with her, so she walked over and stood in front of me for a few seconds. I offered her the seat next to me.

“Ugh, I fucking hate this job,” she said as she plopped down on the couch.  “I’ve been a waitress here for three years, but for the past four days they told me that I have to strip because I’m ‘the prettiest girl here.’”

“Danny” said she hated stripping because it made her uncomfortable. She also didn’t see the point of dancing naked onstage when waitresses tended to make more money, both hourly and in tips. “Waitresses make more money than dancers because guys like to see girls with their clothes on, because they like to imagine what’s underneath,” she theorized.

“I don’t want to be here. I’m so tired. I had an organic chemistry test today and I stayed up all night … studying for it,” she explained. “I’m a graphic design major, and I also coach soccer for seven-year-old girls.”

Danny grew up in Baton Rouge and attended high school there before moving to New Orleans to attend Loyola. She’ll graduate this May. “I’m so excited to graduate!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down in her seat. “I’ve been through so much shit, so I’ll be so happy to walk across that stage.”

Stripping is a temporary job for Danny; she doesn’t plan to continue after graduation. “After I graduate, I’m opening a design company in Atlanta,” she said proudly. “I’m a little worried right now though, with the economy and everything. It’s not a good time to be getting started.”

Danny and her boyfriend were high school sweethearts, and they have been together for seven years. Her boyfriend recently returned from Iraq, where he spent the last year and a half. He was going to visit Danny in the strip club later that night. “My boyfriend hates it when I strip,” she laughed. “[He’d] probably get turned on, but he still doesn’t like it.”

How does she deal with patrons who didn’t behave themselves in the club? “I’ll fucking punch a dude, I don’t care. One time I had a guy try and grab me down there”— she gestured downwards — “but I just hit him. I don’t put up with that shit.”

I asked Danny if she ever worked in the private rooms as a way to earn more money than just stripping on stage. She snapped, “I have fucking self-respect, like, I have morals. You know, I’m smart! I don’t need to do that shit.” She explained that she would give lap dances and strip onstage, but that’s where she draws the line.

Danny often leaped from one topic to another without warning. “That girl’s really nice,” she said, motioning towards the girl dancing onstage, “but she’s fat.” I asked if the managers had guidelines for the girls’ looks. “Oh yeah, definitely. That girl onstage is wearing a wig because her head is shaved. My hair is actually fake — these are extensions. And see, they make me wear makeup.” She turned her face towards me and closed her eyes so I could see the traces of glittery eye shadow and liner she had applied to appease the management. “I never wear it normally, like to class or anything.”

Suddenly, Danny’s name was called over the loudspeaker and she let out a long sigh.  “Here we go,” she grumbled as she walked to the stage. The music came on, and she ambled toward the pole in the middle of the stage. She seemed indifferent and a little self-conscious; she glanced at me constantly, making funny faces as she danced. She finished her second song with two crumpled dollar bills on the stage. I waved goodbye to her and left for the next club.

I strode just a few paces down Bourbon Street and stopped in front of a strip club to talk to the two doormen. Their job was to grab people off the street and entice them to enter the club.

I asked them if working at a strip club changed the way they looked at women. “No, not really,” said a stout guy with a jovial personality. “But I definitely don’t go to strip clubs anymore. I mean, like, I’ll go with a buddy for his 21st birthday or something, but I’m not just gonna suggest going to one anymore. It’s like I’ve been desensitized to boobs!” He chuckled.

He clarified that it would still be a thrill to see a girl naked if he were romantically involved with her. “There’s a difference between boobs onstage and then boobs for me,” he explained. “I’m definitely not desensitized to boobs for me, but otherwise, it’s just a show.”

As we spoke, a group of male Asian tourists walked between us and the door. The portly doorman stepped beside them and gestured towards the door. “Hey guys, wanna have a good time tonight? Boobs and asses in your face? Think about it …” The men wandered away.

It was the other doorman’s fourth day on the job. I asked him if he’d already had to deal with customers’ misbehavior. “This one guy took his dick out and was slapping the dancer on the ass with it, so we had to kick him out. The girl was lettin’ him do it though!” he exclaimed incredulously.

Perhaps she just didn’t realize what he was doing. “Oh, she knew what he was doing,” he responded confidently. “She just had dollar signs in her eyes. All them girls do.”