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Page 3: Why Your City Sucks: Stillwater

Because OSU is there! HAHAHAHAHAHA. Thank you and goodnight!

But seriously though, despite being a Sooner, there are a number of good reasons to rip on Stillyville. I've made many trips up I-35 (most of my friends went to Oklahoma State) and even though there are negatives, Stillwater is a nice college town. Very friendly atmosphere with a nice small town, down-home type of feel and there is a true spirit about the town. It's infectious.

But this is about the bad things. So here's a few from me:

1. It smells like poo. I'd say this is the most obvious issue with Stillwater. When you're driving into town, you smell poo poo. It gives a nice feel to exactly where you're at: Small time Oklahoma. Where cattle roam free and no building is taller than two stories. I've always wondered what high prized football and basketball recruits think when they arrive in Stillwater only to be greeted by that lovely aroma. I'm sure the first thing on their mind is, "Yeah, this is definitely where I want to spend the next four years playing basketball."

2. The Strip. This is the small area that's basically the college bars. And it's not bad honestly. There are a good number of bars in a small area and you can hop around all night. But one thing that I always had an issue with in them (mom if you're reading this, I never went in, I just heard from a friend): There aren't any floors. Maybe they're trying to stick with the whole cowtown schtick, but I'm not a huge fan of showing up to an establishment in flip-flops, only to get sand/dirt all over my feet. Yes, that's not a huge deal, but when you put sand/dirt on the ground, it encourages spitting of tobacco, throwing down of trash and other releases of bodily fluids. So while I'm walking around this place and I feel a touch of good stick to my big toe, I just have to think one thing: I'm in Stillwater.

3. 51 Highway is the longest road known to man. I hate Stillwater for this main reason. I'm driving up I-35 and I see a "Stillwater Exit 1 mile" sign. I'm thinking I'm making fantastic time. I'm high-fiving friends, calling my parents and alerting newspapers. With only going seven miles over, I got from Norman to Stillwater in 40 minutes! THIS HAS TO BE A RECORD. But of course I forgot about Highway 51. I think it's aptly named that, because much like Area 51, it's makes you question whether or not Stillwater is actually a myth.

Google Maps says it's only 12 minutes down it to Stillwater, but I swear it takes 45. Plus, it's the cop capital of the universe. They line the streets like middle-aged men at Mardi Gras. I prefer Norman to Stillwater for a number of reason, but high ranking on the list is the fact once I exit I-35, I don't have to take a trip down The Lost Highway to town. Every time I start wondering if I took a wrong turn or something and then boom, there's that Braum's right on the edge of town and I realize, I've made it to the worst place in the universe. How lucky am I.

4. Contrary to popular belief (in Stillwater), the movie Almost Famous was not about your lame town. Just thought that should be cleared up. Actually, I don't know if that's popular belief, but I saw a kid wearing a "Stillwater" shirt one time there and he thought it was the coolest thing ever. F that guy.

5. There are four things to do: 1) Get in fights 2) Drink 3) Gripe about OU and all those prettyboys that go there. 4) Drink, then get in a fight with some prettyboy from OU.

Now it's time for Stillwater expert Clark Matthews, to give you some information:

First of all, I must make it clear that Stillwater is God's country and I love it with all my heart. The place is perpetually populated by hot women, including, for a time, the lovely Mrs. Matthews. I'd go on about the great entertainment and wonderful university, but once you mention attractive females, our readers are sold.

However, the police in Stillwater (Campus and otherwise) can be a little overly diligent. And I'm not referring just to the reams of paper they use to issue tickets to every student who visits the Edmon Low Library.

Two examples:

1. One Sunday afternoon, some of my fraternity brothers decided to head over to the Colvin Fields to toss around a football as practice for intramural football. Being a weekend day without football, 75% of the student population had returned to their hometowns to get their laundry done. So, the parking lot, made for a couple hundred cars, was empty. There were probably eight of us in a caravan of three cars, but one guy parked a little crooked. When I say crooked, I am not talking about one of those people in their luxury car who parks in two spots at a 45 degree angle to avoid door dings. I mean, he turned a little early so that one of his wheels slightly crossed the yellow line, and being as how the lot was empty (did I mention the lot was empty?) he didn't back up again and re-park.

About fifteen minutes into our pseudo-practice one of Oklahoma State's Finest pulls up the the field and wanders over to our gathering to ascertain whether one of us owned the poorly parked vehicle. He then threatened to have it towed if the owner didn't immediately go and straighten out his parking job.

2. Up at 3:30 on a Saturday night while studying for an Advanced Accounting test that would determine if I got to leave the school with a diploma, I decided I needed a study break. Considering the time frame, I thought it might be a good time to procure some caffeinated beverages, so I chose to venture out to the Wal Mart that was separated from my apartment by a mile and a half of neighborhood roads.

Due to a recent ice storm, I drove incredibly cautiously, but as I got to the stoplight leading to the Supercenter's parking lot some red and blue lights appeared in my rear view mirror. The officer approached my vehicle and shined his flashlight right in my eyes as he asked for my license and registration. He then asked me if I knew why I'd been pulled over. I was floored when he informed me that he had witnessed me cross the center line (probably to avoid a patch of ice on a desolate street), and then questioned whether I had had anything to drink that night. He didn't like my response of "I had a Dr. Pepper with dinner." He made me get out of the car and made me do four sobriety tests (follow the flashlight with my eyes, say my ABC's, walk a straight line, and touch my nose with my forefinger) which I passed easily...primarily because I don't drink.

Even after this, he made me stand outside while he radioed in my driver's license number to check for outstanding warrants. While this was happening, I briefly put my hands in my pockets (remember ice storm and early hours of the morning) and briefly had a service weapon pointed at me. He finally let me go after spending about half an hour allowing all the actual drunk drivers going home from the TumbleWeed to pass unmolested.

I think we're fizzling out here, so this might be the last one. I don't want to be that guy beating a theme column into the ground. But if I didn't cover a city you want roasted, email me I suppose.

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