Ah, Binghamton University. What can be said about it that hasn’t already been said about Michael Jackson’s nose?
A “decaying” academic institute in the middle of one of the most racist towns I’ve ever seen, completely “detached” from modern civilization, advertising itself as the “Premier Public University of the Northeast” — though we all know that it’s nothing to be proud of. BU may be the best public university in the state of New York, but it falls short when compared to other state universities.
The constant rain in Binghamton can be explained by a very scientific hypothesis: Mother Nature cries every time she looks at this town. I guess we should be thankful she didn’t hit us with a hurricane, earthquake or wildfire.
Every time I leave or come back to Binghamton it feels like I’m time-traveling. When I go back to New York City, it’s as if I’ve returned to the present of modern technology and crowded streets. When I return to Binghamton after a vacation, it seems like the town is stuck in the 1980s. Empty stores and damaged warehouses litter the area, while students renting off campus are forced to live on the same block as a crack house.
Binghamton University consists of an indifferent administration and a lackluster student body. Apathetic in every regard, it seems the overwhelming population is content in just drinking, smoking or eating its problems away. I can’t say I blame them. Illicit drugs probably help students forget they didn’t get into Cornell.
When I say “school spirit,” I might as well be speaking Arabic, as it is a foreign concept reserved for colleges with sports teams capable of making a run for the championship, or of even having a winning record. Sure, Binghamton made it to the first round of the NCAA basketball tournament, but there was no way we could have won against high-ranking teams like Duke or Villanova.
As my undergraduate career comes to a close at Binghamton University, I realize something about my past — I should have tried harder in high school. I may sound ungrateful about my time here, but if I were to praise this school for its “academic guidance” and “fulfilling college experience,” it would be disingenuous.
On May 17, I will pack all my belongings into a Toyota Camry and step back to look at the school at which I spent the last three and a half years. Then I will jump in the car and drive away as fast as I can.
Goodbye, Binghamton University. Thanks for helping me develop a better appreciation for New York City and for the opportunity to become obese. I won’t be back. I know that Binghamton University will probably not miss me, but I will definitely not miss it.