Will Holt ‘23
Reviews Editor
Call it ANG. Some days ago—never mind how long precisely—having little, or rather, no money in its purse, and nothing in particular to interest it on Law Grounds, ANG thought ANG would stroll about a little and see other parts of the University. Weariness in the eyes and frustration with book learning set ANG’s compass due west—to Darden—where such ills exist only in the wispiest dreams of Master’s candidates. Be sure, dear readers, not to mistake ANG’s vagrant soul and hairy feet for a penchant for adventure; ANG is not a roving creature. But as it seems, ANG’s wisdom fell prey to desperation, and the unexpected traveler emerged from ANG’s trash heap to take the trek’s first steps.
With knuckles dragging, ANG lumbered up Massie Road. Spying the postcard-famous white columns of its destination, ANG sat on the sidewalk, weak-kneed after a whole two hundred strides. As ANG rested on ANG’s haunches, however, high-pitched voices pierced the winds from the direction of the lawn. Panicking, the shy traveler dove for the shrubbery and exposed only an ear with which ANG could listen to the brewing conversation. A gaggle of newly admitted students sat in a circle, chittering about how they planned to represent their prospective MBAs on their CVs. Frightened by people with work experience, ANG continued to cower amongst the greenery until making an escape upon the eruption of a small skirmish over proper typeface.
Pictured Here: ANG ventures out from Copeley Field to see what the Business School is all about.
ANG stood but a few yards from ANG’s destination, and the prospect of encountering more enterprising young people aroused crushing anxiety. To minimize the chances of an encounter, ANG crawled through an open library window and into a pile of dust—safety at last. As expected, the rows of Bloomberg magazines and Tony Robbins books lay deserted. ANG let out a hoarse sigh of relief and staggered towards the middle of the vacant room. This was just what ANG needed: a hidden nook where no one would think to look. But those dreams persisted only briefly. A female voice bearing a muddled faux-European accent began to float through the halls. Such tones were unknown to ANG, whose prior travels had extended no further than the dumpster behind the Waffle House. ANG emerged from the library to investigate and saw a sign reading, “BUS-1001,” taped onto an open lecture-hall door. Inside, Inventing Anna was playing on a massive screen, while a professor provided commentary regarding Julia Garner’s performance and what she did to play such a compelling young business woman. This was the last test for ANG’s nerves. ANG darted out of the building, down Massie Road, and back to ANG’s dingy abode.
Traumatized from ANG’s experience, ANG is glad to resume ANG’s correspondence with the Virginia Law Weekly. ANG is not likely to change ANG’s commentary as a result, but ANG did learn a lesson of sorts: The law school may be bizarre at times, but it must make more sense than whatever is going on next door.
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wjh4ew@virginia.edu