Panther Card essential to students’ lives, sanity

I’ve never been a fan of similes. As far as grammatical constructions go, similes are a bit… I’ve never been a fan of similes. As far as grammatical constructions go, similes are a bit too promiscuous for my liking, strutting around with “like” and “as,” soliciting usage from even the most upstanding sentences. You’ll find them in Hallmark cards, high school poetry, television jingles, half-baked college admissions essays and even presidential speeches. If they’re good, they fall into the realm of cliches. If they suck, as most of them do, they linger around to weaken our language and destroy our freedom. And I love my freedom like I love my computer. Those of you who know me will understand the gravity of that statement.

Which is why, when I was writing this column, I agonized over an alternative way to say what I’m about to say next. But honestly, there was no other way. Your Panther Card is a lot like love: You don’t know what it really means until you lose it. When you lose it, your life falls apart. Then you have to pay 20 bucks to get it back again.

The Panther Card, affectionately known to us as “my ID,” is the one constant in our four to six year tenure here at Pitt. It is inextricably linked to the Pitt experience, being critical to eating on campus, checking out library books, getting into dorms and crashing some rockin’ parties at the William Pitt Union. It’s some hardcore stuff; that card gets more action than I do.

Like most people, I remember exactly where I was when I first got my ID. It was the summer of 2005, and I was standing inside Panther Central. They handed me that warm piece of synthetic polymer and told me to keep it with me at all times.

Thirty seconds later I lost it somewhere on Forbes, and thereby initiated a cycle of “lose, panic and recover” that has probably robbed me of more study time and more productivity in the last two years than any other single factor. It’s not that I care about the ID. I hate my picture, and I really couldn’t care less if someone finds it and “goes nuts” with my meal blocks. I care because it would cost me $20 to get a new one. Contrast this with the free Qdoba card I got the other day, which gave me a free plate of chips and salsa as well as an online account management system.

But for now, let’s ignore the financial ramifications and focus on the social implications instead. Nothing is more awkward than yelling at your roommate, storming out of the building and having to call him 30 seconds later because you forgot your ID. It gets even more awkward when you realize that your ID is probably – don’t ask why – in a laundry basket, wedged somewhere between your dirty, sweaty boxers. Then you resort to bargaining, begging and crying until, ultimately, you agree to be the “sign-people-in guy” for the entire semester.

However, the worst situation arises when you are in a public place – say, the gym at the Pete or in Posvar lobby – when your spider sense goes off: “Where’s my ID?!!?!” All of a sudden, you begin groping yourself, jamming your hands deep into your pockets, slapping your chest and touching yourself in the desperate hope that, somehow, the ID will magically reappear. All the while, half the Pitt campus has gathered to watch the spectacle.

It’s not all pain and suffering, though. According to the poster in the laundry room in McCormick Hall, I save a “cool quarter” every time I use PantherFunds instead of cash to do my laundry. That’s right, I save an entire quarter of a dollar. That really adds up when you spend $500 a semester on textbooks. Similarly, you can use PantherFunds at food establishments on campus. It’s great, because instead of paying in cash and leaving, you get to hang out in the restaurant for 15 more minutes while the cashier swipes your card repeatedly.

The Panther Card also provides great ammunition for insults. Consider this:

Person A: “Hah! You failed your psych final!”

Person B: “Yeah, well at least I don’t look like a serial killer in my ID picture!”

So, yeah, there are some benefits. But the ultimate truth is Panther Cards just aren’t that much fun. For something I have to look at every day, it sure is ugly. The card itself is baby blue and depicts a fuzzy image of the Pete. The panther mascot looks like it was drawn in Microsoft Paint. Aesthetics aside, Panther Cards are simply mundane. I would love to wake up one day and have my ID do something new. I don’t know, maybe serenade me or do my stats homework. Something.

I read it on the homepage every time I log on to a computer: Pitt has reached its goal of raising 50 gazillion dollars. So let’s put the money to good use. I’m thinking we scrap the Panther Cards and install retina scanners at every dorm, cafeteria and library.

We could even melt down the plastic from our old ID cards and mold it into a statue of me for suggesting such a brilliant idea.

Discovered a unique use for your ID? E-mail Ravi at rrp10@pitt.edu.