Lyka Apurillo is both excited for and dreading homecoming.
The 20-year-old junior knows the University of Arizona campus is going to be a madhouse with the influx of alumni. It’s already busy on any given regular day.
As she checks her phone outside the UA bookstore Starbucks, students are stacked 20 deep in the cafe.
“This is not busy,” says Apurillo, a pre-nursing and pre-public health student. “This is really, really slow.”
She would know. Apurillo works part time at Starbucks. On a Monday morning, she says, it’s nothing for the line to stretch all the way to the bookstore entrance.
That’s a lotta lattes.
Ah, 21st-century college-student problems. I went to the UA during a time of big hair and bad fashion: late ’80s to early ’90s. Campus life was primitive — no cellphones, no Starbucks. The Student Union had, oh, like four places to eat, including one called Louie’s Lower Level that deep-fried everything, even the napkins. These days, the union’s all fancified.
Long after I graduated, the Student Union Memorial Center underwent renovations starting in 1999 and reopened in 2003, a sprawling metropolis of food and services along with game and lounge areas across four levels and 10 acres. Just scanning the dining options on a directory takes so long that a union employee may ask if you’re lost or need help.
With more than 40,000 students on campus, a noon-on-the-dot lunch at one of the union’s eateries can be tricky if you’re on a tight schedule. Apurillo says she doesn’t go near the place until 1 or 2 p.m. Victor Estrada, 20, works in facilities at the union, so the junior knows every nook and cranny and can find a seat, even when the place is crawling with people.
Then there’s the high-ceilinged and expansive UA bookstore.
Smooshy, studded leather chairs flank the bookstore’s sliding glass doors, inviting students to linger. Such a different world. The tiny bookstore that kept me in comp notebooks and Sharpies — they were Dullies back then — couldn’t handle the crush of humanity at the beginning and end of each semester. A long line would form out the door because one shopper had to exit before another could come in. No backpacks or even briefcases allowed: They got stashed in a locker or, more usually, tossed into a pile on the ground.
Speaking of ground, that’s occasionally where students ended up because it wasn’t unusual for someone to pass out while waiting in the heat. Good times, good times.
The bookstore of 2016 — which boasts a makeup counter and luxe sunglasses displayed in cases — could almost be mistaken for a Nordstrom. All that’s missing is a piano player in the corner next to the “A” emblazoned water bottles. Pretty swanky.
Someone who last spent quality time on campus more than 20 years ago can feel a little lost trekking across the UA today. It’s hard not to feel like Country Mouse checking out the big city, dodging bikes whizzing past and students — eyes glued to their phones — who can’t look where they’re walking. Here, patience isn’t a virtue, it’s a way of life. You wait everywhere — even the parking garage. You wait in line to pay, you wait to drive out, and of course you wait for the endless throngs of students to cross the street.
One thing’s for sure, though: It’s a lot more fun to be on campus — slurping down a coffee float from The Scoop and watching all the people hunched under 30-pound backpacks shuffling past in their flip-flops — when you’re long past the age of frantically studying for finals.
