Someone please tell me. I’m literally begging you. To all those in the class of 2025, I remember our first week on campus quite well. Mostly because we all jingled from place to place in horrible unison with our IDs, room keys and miscellaneous objects of importance attached to our Yale-patterned lanyards. But times change and I guess lanyards do too. Mine acquired a funky fresh galaxy print, and all of yours turned invisible.
What sorcery is this? Sure, you can carry your ID on an iPhone wallet attachment or a rubber ID holder, but do you bring your phone with you everywhere? Oh who am I kidding, of course you do! Onto a greater concern then: how do you get the ID out of the holder once you put it in? I tried once and it was nearly impossible to get the card out because of the friction from the rubber. And when Murphy’s Law smites you for hubris once, you usually don’t make a habit of challenging it again.
See, I understand the basic philosophy is to tap your ID on the scanners without removing it, but I’d rather not engage in a small wrestling match with my phone every time the dining hall scanner decides that I don’t exist, which happens far more often than you’d think. I don’t have the energy to partake in this daily challenge. Plus, I don’t want to swap out my phone case for a wallet attachment. It’s got an astronaut on it! How can I replace the astronaut? The lanyard is infinitely more convenient, not only for my ID but also my room key.
Speaking of room keys, what exactly are all of you doing with yours? Do you carry them with you? Is it some unspoken secret that all Yale students have their suite and dorm room doors taped, and have transcended the mortal trappings of keys altogether? Is it a rite of passage to learn to materialize your key from the ether through sheer willpower alone? I can’t answer these questions, but you probably can, dear reader.
Someone please tell me. People keep mistaking me for a first year — I’m a sophomore —, and the jingling announces my presence to everyone in a 30-mile radius when I go outside. This would be fine if I were one of the bells in Harkness Tower, but as we have established, I am a sophomore.
Maybe the experience of wearing my lanyard will endow me with greater stealthiness than the average student — which would be highly beneficial to stealth checks during my party’s Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Besides that, by virtue of constantly jingling, I automatically get to be more festive than anyone else when the holidays roll around. But perhaps there is also something to be said about sticking to your instincts no matter what, however noisy or chaotic a fate they bring down upon your head.
To all my fellow lanyard-wearers, I see — and hear — you. Never change.