GEEK BEAT: Forget the plan, I’m going Viking

I used to think college was like Neverland, a magical place where nobody grew up (I saw grown men riding a bed down a hill in their underwear. It was the only logical conclusion).

I was looking forward to spending the rest of my life here, like a modern day Peter Pan, prancing around campus looking for pirates.

It turns out this is pixie-crap, and I want my tuition money back.

Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, – I think it was when I was going through that “Yu-Gi-Oh” phase – I grew up. I got married. I filled out a form that said I was planning on graduation.

I don’t know how to admit this to myself, but I’ve actually started to make mature decisions. Like the other day, I had the chance to eat brownies, but I ate an apple instead because – and this is the really scary part – I knew it was better for me.

As disheartening as that is, I’m going to put it on the back burner while I worry about what I’m going to do with my life after I’m done here.

When I first came to USU, I was all excited for two things: the chance to learn the skills that would help me enter the work force in my chosen profession and a chance to bring back Pogs.

Now that I know we don’t offer courses in spaceship repair and that it’s really hard for a samurai to find work in today’s economy, I’m a little nervous.

OK, not so much nervous as terrified.

But it’s all right. I have a backup plan in place.

I’m going to be a Viking.

I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I really think being a Viking is a good career choice for me.

Think about it. I’m good at rowing, I have long, unkempt facial hair and I always wear a distinctive hat. I even look dead sexy in chain mail. It’s the perfect fit.

I worked with my counselor, and we’ve got it all planned out too.

Step one: become a person who swears.

I’ve always had a bunch of my own curse words that word fine when I stub my toe or die playing Mario, but when you’ve got a blood-thirsty Viking barreling down on your village, you don’t want him to call you a fart-knocker or even a turd-burglar.

Step two: convert my car into a Viking-style longboat.

It’s time to see if I really earned that carpentry merit badge. I’m going to go all out on this one. I want it to look good because, let’s be honest here, nothing says, “Don’t cut me off or I will maraude you right in the face,” like a giant wood dragon on the hood.

Step three: learn to pillage.

I don’t really know the deep theory behind pillaging, but I’ve been to the Bookstore enough times that I think I’ve got the basics down.

Step four: put horns on all my hats.

Step five: enjoy the lavish lifestyle that comes with being a brave and handsome Viking.

It’s a pretty good life from what I’ve read in the recruitment brochures. I get all the roasted boar I can eat, all the wenches I can handle and all the battle axes I can swing. Plus I can sleep on a bed of Viking gold, which is way more comfortable than pirate gold.

Best of all, I get a shield. I’ve always wanted a shield.

Sure, there’s no company health insurance and the dental plan stinks but that’s a small price to pay for a shield.

So that’s the plan. I really hope I can pull it off. I’m in big trouble if I can’t. I doubt they’ll let me back here after what I did in the old library.

Maybe I should just stop this whole growing up thing while I still have the chance.

If you see me prancing around campus in green tights singing about how I can fly, you’ll know why.

Geek on.

Steve Shinney is a senior in computer science with plans to run for a position in the Viking union. Comments about this column or shields in general can be sent to him at steveshinney@cc.usu.edu.