SATIRE

By Marta Vallejo, Staff Writer  

My time at Xavier has given me the opportunity to admire some of the most beautiful architecture in the entirety of the United States. The broken elevator in Justice Hall, the breathtaking sight of a laundry room with every machine occupied and the unfortunate bathroom incidents are all lovely landmarks I am eternally grateful to see every day.  

But among these remarkable historic monuments, one has caught my eye: the igloos on the yard.  

I find myself staring at them every time I walk across campus. Despite having been around for a while, I’ve never actually stepped inside one. This got me thinking: What do people even use these things for?  

In the past, my detective skills have led me astray and gotten me into serious trouble, but I figured an investigation like this would be pretty harmless. All I had to do was ask students what they get up to inside the igloos. What could possibly go wrong?  

Stepping into the first igloo, I immediately noticed a significant shift in the vibe (and the smell). The students stared at me like I was a weirdo interrupting their sacred time. In hindsight, I probably should’ve knocked before entering, but it’s not like these things have an actual door!  

I asked the group what they were doing and whether they enjoyed the igloos. After a few more glares, they finally told me that they were studying. They also kindly told me to get lost.  

However, as I stepped back outside, I caught a glimpse of their laptop screens. One student was watching the Bengals play, another was shopping on Amazon and a third was browsing Spotify. Guess that’s what happens when your igloo is transparent.  

Determined to uncover the igloos’ true purpose, I moved on to the next one. Surely, the next group of occupants would have a more productive use for Xavier’s latest architectural achievement.  

This time, I actually tried to “knock,” and the girls inside let me in. I asked for their thoughts on the igloos, but I received a very different response.  

“I THOUGHT HE LOVED ME!” one of the girls screamed.  

She sat there crying uncontrollably while her friend tried to comfort her. Eventually, the friend turned to me and explained the situation. Apparently, the girl had found out that her boyfriend had cheated on her and had chosen the igloo as a place to vent her frustrations.  

Her friend asked if I had any advice or words of encouragement. Feeling like I had ACTUALLY interrupted something sacred, I excused myself and left, making sure to tell the crying girl to stay strong in these dire times. Poor thing.  

As my investigation continued, I found myself questioning the true purpose of these igloos more and more. One igloo had become a hot yoga studio and another had an entire group of guys watching sports on a full-sized TV.  

To finish my investigation, I decided to take things to the next level: I would spend an entire night inside one of the igloos. I packed food, blankets and, most importantly, my roommate. If I had to commit to the bit, so did she. (Also, I paid her $20.)  

We chatted, played games, watched movies and spent the night relaxing in our little home. For a moment, everything was perfect. Unfortunately, the next morning had other plans for my dignity.  

I woke up and looked around. I was surrounded by a group of about 20 teenagers. They were on a campus tour and had stumbled upon my unconscious, snoring body. My roommate, of course, had woken up and quickly abandoned me, leaving me to face the consequences of my own journalistic ambition alone.  

I got out of the igloo with shame in my eyes as the tour guide desperately tried to usher the teenagers elsewhere and salvage what little self-respect I had left. Unfortunately, it was too late.  

My investigation revealed that the igloos on the yard serve several important purposes ranging from late-night therapy sessions to questionable recreational activities. The results were both enlightening and deeply concerning. And while I may never fully understand why Xavier decided to put these transparent domes on the yard, I can confidently say that I will never be sleeping in one again.