The Funk

In general I think I'm probably pretty unaccepting of others. Not that I'm intentionally intolerant or go out of my way to belittle people, but it seems that I just have no patience when it comes to certain personality traits. People who don't work to their potential, go out of their way to avoid work, or feel that they deserve something just for being alive, for example, all irk me to the extreme. Despite this sense of elitism, I would still like to think that I have an average amount of specific pet peeves. There are only a few of them that draw my attention on a regular basis ... bad teeth, ME 252, etc. In truth, there is really only one pet peeve I encounter that I can't seem to handle even after 21 years of living.

I speak of the Funk.

Let me provide some background on the subject. Every morning, regardless of when class starts or if I'm hitting Zoellner or the gym, I make an effort to destroy the Funk that has pervaded my own body during my hours of slumber. A shower, shave, toothbrushing, swipe of deoderant, and shot of cologne underneath clean clothes are all it takes to leave me feeling fresh and clean, even at 8 AM. I then grab my books and saunter to class, Funk rendered harmless and ready to face the day.

Now let's say I have gone through this short cleaning process (14-16 minutes on average) and arrived at class. I'm sitting down, waiting for the professor to walk in, as friends and classmates begin to enter and take seats around me. Casual, often sleepy exchanges can be heard throughout the room. Many people are nursing soda, coffee, or some combination of the two. You can even hear the familiar crack and crinkle of a pack of Pop-tarts being opened. The day has begun.

A few minutes into lecture, I'm laboriously taking notes on something I don't care about and simultaneously doodling a picture of a dinosaur flying a rocket. Or maybe a ninja fighting a bear. Regardless of what cool thing I'm doodling, the same chain of events will then begin to unfold with startling regularity. The student sitting next to me (ranging from good friend to curriculum-based acquaintance) will suddenly decide to lean in and whisper something funny. I might hear the comment, I might not, but one thing becomes undeniably and pungeantly apparent during this brief commentary ... my compatriot has not handled their Funk that morning.

It could be BO. It could be morning breath. It could even just be an overall aura of nastiness that seems to follow this person wherever they go (much like Pigpen from Peanuts). The only thing that is certain about them, however great they might be, is that they are in some way funky and thus hurting those around them on a personal, even emotional level.

Now I know that late nights and a comparably lax lifestyle are two of the trademarks of college society. Hell, these are four (or seven) of the most independent and free years of your life. If you don't take advantage of them, you're missing out. The problem is that this lifestyle choice can make maintaining time in the morning a very, very difficult task. If you're working/drinking/playing until 2 AM, being up at 7:30 for an 8:10 lecture will eventually seem extreme to even the hardiest and most experienced among us. The natural solution is to thus sleep until the last possible second before you frantically roll out of bed and begin the long, arduous quest for your pants.

This minimized waking time before class comes with consquences. In general, you'll probably look like shit. You'll probably forget things you need to bring to class from time to time in your rush to figure out if your manufacturing homework is in the red or green notebook. You'll even probably be cranky as you wait in line for coffee at the cafe that could in no way be construed as "on the way to class" (of course you'll still get coffee before class, and God forbid you wake up 6 minutes earlier so you can both get coffee and be at class on time).

Even compared to these harsh results of your sleep-maximizing strategy, though, the Funk still stands out as the most powerful and ultimately painful punishment that you can inflict on your classmates. Not brushing your teeth or eating breakfast means that every exhale sends liters of morning breath into your immediate atmosphere, choking your fellows and small insects alike. Not applying deoderant (since you obviously did yesterday morning, duh) means that your personal space has become filled with your own personal brand of stink bug pheromone. And, perhaps in the worst case, not doing your laundry regularly means that you've arrayed yourself in an incubation chamber specially designed to harness, store, and even enhance your Funk. Roll all three of those together and you'll smell as good as you look- like shit.

To all of my early-morning friends and classmates, if you're reading this, please do not be offended. The vast majority of you handle your Funk in a satisfactory or even admirable way. I daresay you smell delicious, most mornings. To the rest of you, I do not ask that you change your ways, stop going out, or get up earlier than you normally do. It's not my place to tell you how to live your life or de-stinkify your personage. What I do ask, for my happiness and the health of our friendship, are just a couple little logistical favors that could help both of us get along better:

1. Sit at least two seats away from me.
2. If you're going to greet me, do so from at least two rows away.
3. Please ... stop leaning in to tell me jokes. If you must, write them down and administer them when you are clean. Right now you smell like an anchovy's vagina.

And with that, I thank you for listening to my small requests. Working together, I know we can strive to bring an end to the Funk and live to see a brighter, fresher tomorrow.