While ruminating on the many un-pleasantries that make winter at Dartmouth the least enjoyable term of the year, I settled on three key issues which detract from my otherwise positive inclination toward our “Town on the Hill.”

1. The parking tickets need to stop. This is my largest contention with Hanover and possibly the greatest threat to my existential well-being. While my aggravation likely stems from the fact that I’ve tallied a greater debt to the town of Hanover through parking infractions than any other human being in existence, I have to believe that my frustration is both well-founded and shared by the larger Dartmouth community.

The other day, while parking behind the Nugget Theater, I returned to my vehicle to find not one, but two meter-men mirthfully discussing culinary secrets while giggling deviously about the $30 fine they were preparing to slap on my frost-covered windshield. Although my immediate reaction could have achieved greater levels of articulation and courtesy than “what the hell are you doing?” I feel that the root of my question is valid: why must the town of Hanover hire a veritable army of meter-people to patrol the streets? Why do these jobs exist, and more importantly, why are there so many of them? Every time I see one – or perhaps a gaggle – of these individuals bounding toward an expired meter to discipline one of us ill-intentioned municipal deviants, it provides me with renewed belief in the uselessness of their existence.

I have heard that these tickets generate a good amount of revenue for the town of Hanover. This means that:
1. The town of Hanover gives out enough parking tickets to cover the annual salaries of 8-10 full-time employees.
2. After paying the employees, there is enough cash leftover for the municipal bankroll to justify the enterprise.

That cannot possibly be the best way to raise money for the town.

2. Hanover needs a bar. Or a club, or SOME ESTABLISHMENT capable of drawing Dartmouth students out from the putrid depths of fraternity basements and into an environment free of communicable diseases. While spending time in Hanover during winter break, it dawned on me that “bar-hopping” here consists of shelling out $75 for beverages that bear no resemblance in taste or appearance to whats appears on the menu. Most of my nights were rounded off with one of the Orient’s potent “Scorpion Bowls” and a side of miso soup.

While the Scorpion fulfilled its promise to sting the hell out of my mouth, it did little to ease the yearning of the new “over 21” clause on my driver’s license. My suspicion about the quality of alcoholic beverage in Hanover was at least partially confirmed when I began calling out random names like “Mongolia” and “Licorice Spritzer” to figure out just how full of crap these bartenders were. As it turned out, the Mongolia was delicious, and I intend to try several more East Asian countries in the coming weeks.

I am not a businessman, but I do believe I understand the concept of supply and demand. While I offer no further comment, Dartmouth is supposedly infamous for its habitual binge-drinking. There’s your demand. It’s time that Hanover supplied us with a nice place to enjoy a well-made drink.

3. Yama can’t shoulder the entire burden of Hanover foreign cuisine by itself. It’s time for the others to raise the bar.

You may wonder why I don't include Jewel of India on my list of quality exotic cuisine (after all, it was voted New Hampshire’s best Indian food restaurant several years in a row). My reasoning is simple: the stomach convulsions have ceased to be worth it. The food is delicious, the environment inviting, the staff tacitly rude. But after I’m done eating, I'd prefer not to feel as though my GI tract had just participated in the Scorpion Bowl triathlon. It is high time that another restaurant fills the hole in our worldly bellies.

In conclusion, people are incessantly carping about the drawbacks of living in Hanover. I think it’s time you all stopped complaining.