Last week I went to Yogurtland four times. Yep, four times in seven days. Honestly, the only reason I didn’t go the other three nights was because I was on a retreat.
Jimmy works at Yogurtland on Sawtelle Boulevard during the 9 p.m. shift, which is our standard visiting time. He definitely knows my name.
Yes, I am obsessed.
So imagine my delight when last week Pinkberry on Lindbrook Drive closed, and its windows were covered with “Yogurtland. Coming soon!” signs.
In truth, I was never a Pinkberry fan to begin with. Too tart for my taste. But regardless of personal preference, Yogurtland has more variety, and you get more for your money.
What’s more, Yogurtland fits right into Westwood ““ it’s the metaphoric embodiment of the joys of college life.
Think about it. At Yogurtland I have ultimate control of my fro-yo destiny. Same as in college. There is no menu telling me how to consume my time. I can study or go out. It’s not a limited situation, like the $4.95 you pay for a medium cup of Pinkberry. It’s more like weighing the cup at Yogurtland ““ I make my selections and pay my consequences at the end.
Best of all, Yogurtland requires no either/or decision making. I can get as many flavors and toppings as I want. Lo and behold the perks of being in college.
At this stage in our lives, we’re trying out different flavors: of classes, of clubs, of people. Can’t decide between the healthy fruit toppings (representative of being a responsible lab assistant) and the more adventurous topping of Fruity Pebbles (likened to the party scene or intense ultimate frisbee team)? Well, hey ““ you can have both.
Marcus Dorstel, a first-year business economics student and fellow Yogurtland fan, also finds the joys in options.
“You can customize your yogurt a million ways,” he said.
Yogurtland offers a plethora of paths to a tasty dessert, just like college’s many opportunities. M.K. Tran, a second-year economics student, said Yogurtland and college both offer freedom of choice.
Delicious.
We have four years before we leave the security of college, and we want all we can eat while we’re here.
Let’s use relationships as an example of Yogurtland’s and college’s freedom of exploration.
I’m sure most of you can relate to the quietly balanced members of the opposite sex you keep around in your life. They’re like flavors.
Chocolate is the occasional hook-up partner; you splurge every once and a while. There’s Taro, the intriguing new guy or girl you casually keep adding into your diet, seeing if you like it or not. There’s the stand-by Plain Tart, the one you always get, the person for emotional support and friendship ““ basically your significant other, except you’re not getting any.
No need to pick one when you order. You can mix them all together!
Eventually, in the real world this doesn’t really fly. You have to commit and gear toward serious relationships. But in college ““ and at Yogurtland ““ you can enjoy them in a unique concoction.
After college, I’ll be decisive and package my life into a standard-sized dish with one generic flavor and one topping. But for now, I am so down with filling as much strawberry, chocolate, pistachio and Nilla-wafer fro-yo as I can into a giant cup with a bunch of toppings that don’t go together.
Sorry, Pinkberry. I’m in college. Forced decisions aren’t my style.
If you want to add your flavor, e-mail Bricklin at abricklin@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.