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This Issue 04/02/2009

• If You Build It, Will They Come?
• The Best Songs For Living the Life
• Questions for the Answer Man
• The Best of Penn 2009

Nightlife West of 40th:
Millcreek Tavern
There are two types of (cool) people at Penn. There are those who go to Millcreek Mondays for the all-you-can-eat wings and all-you-can-drink brewskies, and then, of course, there are those who see past the Tavern’s red plastic beer cups and piping hot wing baskets and are just thankful for the chance to suck on their Camel Lights indoors, any night of the week, in peace.

Located at 4200 Chester St., Millcreek is best described as a regular, run-of-the-mill, ask-me-no-questions kind of bar. The floors get sticky, the tables get greasy and the TV’s always tuned to the latest spectacle of interest. And then there’s the extra perk of its relatively obscure setting, located conveniently off the radar of the Greek-heavy Smoke’s-and-Blarney crowd. The patrons are local, with Penn students showing up almost exclusively for the famous $12 Monday special, making it the perfect spot for those who’d rather avoid the tangled masses of Penn bodies and actually enjoy being at the bar. Just try not to get lost on your way home.

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Way to Sneak Alcohol into the Quad During Fling:
In a Package Shipped to Yourself
There’s nothing that brings out desperation quite like that all-too-familiar ritual of sneaking alcohol into the Quad during the lead-up to Fling. Helpful reminders are posted well in advance to remind the Quad-dwellers that bag inspection time is imminent, yet it seems inevitable that most forget until the very last minute. Which is when the thinking caps come on, and people get creative. Or at least try to.

We’ve all been there: stuffing a bottle of Bankers at the bottom of a laundry bag, shoving a bag of Franzia up your top feigning pregnancy or just hiding a bottle of something somewhere. But these methods all seem to end in tears as the sneaky security guards call you out and give you a slap on the wrist. In Street’s vast esteem, there is really only one method to ensure the safe arrival of your alcoholic beverages into the Quadrangular fortress: send a package to yourself containing your alkypops, signed Mother and Father. But make sure you pad the bottles well so that the package doesn’t sound too liquidy when shaken… wouldn’t want your present to be thrown out, would you?

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Place to Smell Like Your Food:
New Delhi
Penn’s campus boasts its fair share of Indian restaurants, but New Delhi — located at the corner of 40th and Chestnut — outshines them all when it comes to one rating criterion: olfactory potency. Yes, New Delhi is the best place to dine on campus when you want your friends to know exactly what you ate for dinner. Pod may be a close runner up, but the fragrant steam emanating from New Delhi’s lunch buffet is enough to declare this restaurant victorious. For only $8.95 plus tax you can sample a variety of Indian delicacies and come out smelling like them too!

Next time you’re craving that straight-from-the-tandoor scent, order the special mix grill, a combination of chicken tandoori, lamb seekh kebab and the Americanized favorite, chicken tikka masala. Feelin' lethargic? Have it delivered. As soon as you burst open that brown paper bag, the wafting scent of biryanis, paneers and vindaloos will transport your West Philly home to the streets of New Delhi.

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Place to Feel Ivy-League:
Fisher Fine Arts
The next time a relative, family friend or Amtrak seatmate mistakes you for a Nittany Lions-supporting State College resident, grab your Nietzsche and Derrida readings and head to the Fisher Fine Arts Library for an instant self-esteem boost. Surrounded by bearded graduate students, reclining in a luxurious Victorian-style armchair, only feet away from a gallery exhibit as esoteric as “Kings, Chiefs and Women of Power: Images from Nigeria,” you’ll feel your future is no less secure than that of your high school valedictorian who ended up at Harvard. Opened in 1891, this red-brick ivory tower is on the National Register of Historic Places, further proof that as far as elite academic institutions are concerned, older means better — or at least more pretentious.