Three cheers and hurrah for the Bravo Bistro! Penn State in its infinite wisdom has created a full service restaurant on campus. But wait, there's more. This fabulous place takes points! Sounds great, doesn't it, full service, great food, awesome desserts, convenient location in East Halls (OK so maybe it's not so convenient) and (this is the best part) hours on the weekend.

Wait . . . this just in . . . The Bravo Bistro will be closed on weekends.

Well, at least they still have great food and great service. Join me, as I take you on a personal tour of the Bravo Bistro (The following is fictional account based upon the personal experiences of several students):

We arrive, the place looks great, they even have a coat check. A waitperson shows us to our table and takes drink orders. I peruse the menu, it is mostly Italian fare. My eye falls on a shrimp linguini dinner. I love shrimp. I love pasta. Perfect. We orders our respective dinners, with a few appetizers and sit back and relax. We talk of jovial things. You wouldn't think you were in a redone campus dining hall at all. I admire the decor and atmosphere.

Our waitron returns to say that they seem to be out of the shrimp linguini, and was there anything else I would like to order. I settle for something else, it is duly noted and the waitron goes away.

It is a busy day at the bistro (probably a Thursday since they aren't open on weekends anymore). All around us there are people laughing ant talking. I see an older man and his guest enter and be seated. He is wearing a suit and looks important. I admire the fact that this place appeals to young and old alike.

The Bistro transcends the generations. People of different ages and professions can come and enjoy good food and good company. A tear comes to my eye, a tear of gratitude to Penn State for thinking up this wonderful venture. I am touched by the meaning of it all. (I got better.)

Hunger punctuates my daydreams. Our food has not arrived. We have been gnawing on the complimentary bread for about 45 minutes. The waitron keeps bringing us bread and drink refills and apologizes for the delay. We talk to her about the Bistro and why it isn't open on weekends anymore. I glance at a waiter carrying a tray toward the distinguished gentleman and his guest. Wait a minute. That's the shrimp linguini. They said that they were out of it . . .

I ask our server about the shrimp dish. She says my distinguished friend across the room is some head honcho of food services and gets what he wants when he wants it.

I take another slice of bread to satiate my hunger. It is actually quite good, but it cannot replace the bitterness I feel. I can't believe I was jilted out of my favorite dish by some guy in a suit.

Our food still does not arrive. Survival instinct takes over. We discuss a plot to waylay the next server with food on their tray. Our jovial conversation has turned into terse silence. The atmosphere looses its spit and polish, and I watch my friend, the head honcho, devour the shrimp, hoping against all hope that he would spill some on his tie.

Our appetizers arrive just in time to abort our plot to overthrow the innoccent waitron. Our hunger is satiated for the moment and our conversation turns toward the jovial side again.

I watch the man in the suit finish his dessert. He is at the end of his meal and he arrived after we had ordered. He had the dish that I wanted. Just because he is a head honcho and we are but humble students.

Our main courses finally arrive. It is very good, although perhaps not quite worth the hour and a half we waited for it. (We don't order dessert, even though we want to, because we all have classes the next day.)

The Bravo Bistro offers fast service and fine dining on campus if you are a faculty member. If you are a student, however, the servers do the best they can and the food is great, but you might have to change your order if you have the audacity to order the same dish as a head honcho (or at least someone who looks important).

Needless to say the Bravo Bistro did not leave a lasting impression with me and the others to which I have talked. It seems the bistro insists on having two sets of standards, one for students and one for faculty. Students are people, too. Our points are just as valid, our currency just as green. If you prick us do we not bleed? Why do we deserve any different treatment than a faculty member? For one brief, beautiful second I thought Penn State had done something for its students. I was wrong. Until the bistro works these bugs out of its system, I will content myself with dining hall fare. At least there everybody has to stand in line.

I guess I forgot who does the research around here.