Spencer McKee

Every day there is a powerful tool used by students and faculty alike. Dick Kelty’s 1952 invention is worn by virtually every person you can come across during any given weekday. The immortal contraption whose name is known far and wide to the far-flung reaches of the globe as “the backpack” has proved to be a crucial component to one’s educational experience for much of the past seven decades. 

As part of my never-ending quest to share the most unnecessary details of my life, this article will be all about what’s in my backpack. My reason for writing about this completely superfluous topic is because I thought it would be so lovely to share what has so far made my college experience what it’s been at its core. I figured that sharing the material objects that I keep closest to me would be incredibly fulfilling.  Just kidding. I needed a reason to clean it out, a deadline to clean it out by, and these articles are due every Tuesday at noon. I thought I might as well make a written, public inventory for the world to (hopefully not) see. Let’s get into it, shall we?

I don’t know about yours, but my backpack is a magical place. I’m not even sure what’s really in it at this point. I just put stuff in there and if it’s lucky, it comes out a week later. It’s basically a black hole with a zipper; a 20-pound scientific anomaly if you will. It was because of this that I approached my horrifically mundane challenge with apprehension. I didn’t know what new, strange realm I had unknowingly allowed my backpack to become. Before diving deep into its depths, I thought of the peculiarities that might await me inside. A week-old apple perhaps? A portal to Narnia? A dominant seventh chord(with corresponding hand gestures)? There was only one way to find out. 
Upon sitting down and opening wide its maw I stared into the dark abyss that awaited me, pausing briefly before diving in. I reached inside, and the first object to reluctantly surface was…a textbook. Rhythmic Training by Robert Starer, to be exact. I expected worse. I set it to the side. Next to come out of the black hole was my Mickey Mouse hand sanitizer. We stared at each other for a second before mutually agreeing that we probably wouldn’t see each other for another month. I set him to the side as well. Third out was my Accelerated Keyboard Harmony textbook, Group Piano: Proficiency in Theory and Performance (shoutout Ned, Elizabeth, Trevor, and Natasha). This was probably the heaviest thing in my bag, and definitely the most F-u-N. Next out was a nail clipper, then a pencil, a sharpener for that pencil, a sharpie, my phone charger, The One Ring to Rule Them All, my AirPods, and my laptop. The last items to emerge were, strangely enough, the things that I probably use the most. As a Blair kid about half of the stuff that I keep in my backpack is music, and currently maintaining residence are the likes of Chopin, Debussy, and Prokofiev. Most of the time they’re fun to walk to class with, trust me. 

After finally pulling everything out I turned and stared at my small mountain of music, technology, and other paraphernalia. I was mainly really confused as to how all of it even fit. Magic? Answer unclear, ask again later. The main takeaway from this adventure was that I should probably clean out my backpack more often. Oh, and I unfortunately didn’t end up finding that portal to Narnia. Only The Lion, The Witch and The Textbook.

We live in a modern world. Shocking, I know. In today’s everyday life, we can literally push a button on a phone and put a digitally produced dog head on someone else’s (almost) actual head. To quote Louis Armstrong: “What a wonderful world”. One of the biggest revelations in our society recently has been the meteoric emergence of artificial intelligence, which can be used for chatbots, facial recognition, physical and digital security, and most importantly: solve homework. Of these handy features that AI boasts, one of its more unique uses has been its ability to generate pickup lines. This of course got the gears in my mind turning, and a burning question came to me. Does AI have discernable rizz from a human? There was only one way to find the answer, and I knew just the place to do it: The Blair School of Music, filled to the brim not only with pianos and practice rooms, but with game as well. 

My process was a fairly simple one. No three-hour lab here. All I needed were some pickup lines from Blair students, some pickup lines from ChatGPT, and people to answer the questions. This is the part where you all come in. Take this quiz to see how well you can spot the differences between human and AI pickup lines.

[wpViralQuiz id=9029]

Before even arriving on campus, I’m sure many of us heard rumors and rumblings of the iconic Randwich. Was it overhyped? Would it blow your mind? (Perhaps most importantly) Did it fully satisfy your lunch needs? The swirling legend that surrounded the customizable midday creation was one of tumultuous debate. I knew that as soon as I got to Nashville, priority number one had to be none other than the Randwich. After arriving, I soon sided with the correct side of history; i.e. that it did indeed live up to the hype. Over the course of the next few lunches, I tried more combinations, more flavors, but just like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, the Roman Empire, and Kylo Ren, I wanted more. And then the idea struck me. The Everything Randwich. I didn’t know if it had been done before – if that threshold had been crossed – but I knew that I must take up the quest. I spent several days twisting and turning this idea over and over in my head. What if it simply couldn’t be done? I wondered. What if this mission ruins the Randwich for me forever? I simply didn’t know if the sandwich gods would allow such a thing to come into existence. At first I was apprehensive, but as the days passed I steeled both my mind and courage. I awoke on Friday, September the 1st with determination in my heart and a need for wheat in my stomach. I had some nerves bubbling within me as I walked to Rand that day, not knowing what lunchtime would hold. Before I knew it I was once again standing in front of the famed dining hall, ready to fling open the door to glory.

I approached the counter with slight trepidation, the moment approaching faster and faster with each stride. I noticed the line was shorter than usual, with there being no more than three people in front of me. When I arrived at the front of the line, my order started off as any other would: “What kind of bread would you like?” 

At any other time I would have immediately responded, but this was no ordinary order. I paused for a second. “Wheat, please.”

Now for the second element. “Which meat?”

Again I paused. “Can I get one of everything?”

The Dining Services person on the other side of the glass offered no objection. I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as turkey, ham, roast beef, and salami became the first layer to the sandwich. I then asked for one of each cheese, to which a slight look of perplexion was given. I smiled nervously, unsure if this would obstruct my mission; but soon provolone, swiss, American and cheddar had been piled on. As I watched the first half of my requested creation slide into the toaster, I soon began wondering if I had made a grave mistake. But it was then at this moment that a quote from Pirates of the Caribbean popped into my head: “Full-bore and into the abyss.” I knew it was too late to back out now. 

When my Randwich emerged from its heating chamber, it was beautiful. Four different cheeses all melting and oozing simultaneously down over a glorious mismatch of meats. Now for the toppings. This is where the fun begins. I was asked, “What toppings can I get for you on here?”

Again I asked for everything, and I watched as lettuce, tomato, onion, spinach, yellow peppers, jalapeno peppers, carrots, black olives and mayo were all placed on top of the already divine creation. It should be noted that both hummus and chicken salad were excluded as I feared for the structural integrity of the previous cargo that was my Randwich. It felt as if the Infinity Gauntlet was being assembled before my very eyes. An object made of not only unimaginable power, but of a variety of flavors as well.  

The sandwich had been completed. The die had been cast. It was now time to grab a Rand cookie and find an empty table. I made sure to find a corner table so as to best avoid detection and distraction. The first bite of the Everything Randwich was upon me. The moment was here at last. I brought it to my mouth and simply experienced. So many flavors rushed at me all at once that it was hard to make sense of it all. Everything that had come before had simply been a juxtaposition to this very lunch. All of the meats, all of the cheeses, everything full-on flooded my taste buds. It. Was. Delicious. I took my second bite. Then a third. Before I realized, I had eaten the first half and started on the second. I continued to live within my own Randwich-centric world for the next five minutes as I finished. Note: I will say that despite its numerous glorious qualities, black olives absolutely do not mix with pickles and salami. I was unlucky enough to get a few bites that had this mixture, and let me tell you, if you can tolerate or even somehow enjoy such a combination of flavors and textures simultaneously, I salute you. 

As I completed my lunch and got ready to pack my things, I considered how this very article would end. I considered the (now seemingly silly) nerves I had had about ordering such a thing. At the end of the day, it was literally just a sandwich. But it had been something that I didn’t know the ending to. If there’s something out there that you feel the same way about, just go for it. It could be something small and dumb like just a sandwich at a college dining hall, or it could be skydiving strapped to a shark with no parachute. It might just end up being the best lunch ever.