Column: Sports, nightlife, art

Sports and nightlife go hand in hand at UNC — more so than most colleges.

And I’m not biased. I’m a transfer student from New Jersey, so there some things I don’t do.

I don’t smile at strangers, say “y’all” or gratuitously thank the person who holds the door as if they just vowed to give me a vital organ.

But I also don’t have memories of college basketball from when I was 3 or 4 years old. Unlike most current students, I never attended games as a child, clad in miniature jerseys and cheerleader outfits. I wish I did.

I’ve heard stories. Before North Carolina kids can articulate the word “basketball,” they’ve been indoctrinated.

UNC nightlife reflects this devotion.

Where else would students camp out for hours to go to a bar?

At my first college, University of Delaware, which was school-spirited, the only place I camped out was the police department: Someone I wasn’t friends with put me as an emergency contact after he drunkenly wound up in Maryland, where he explored the middle of the freeway.

What thoroughfare can compare to Franklin Street?

At Delaware, we had Main Street, but bars closed at 1 a.m, and the only time anyone rushed Main Street was when “I’m Shmacked” came and students set a car on fire.

And nothing can compare to UNC’s multitude of bars.

Delaware had a few restaurants that doubled as bars and the hookah bar, Ali Baba.

Also flourishing in UNC nightlife is the artwork, which pulsates with school pride. There are murals and caricatures of UNC basketball players and coaches, framed Daily Tar Heel front pages and famous UNC-related quotes immortalized on the walls.

At Delaware, a pizzeria had this mural that said “Make Pizza Not War,” and I remember there always being a penis drawing within eyeshot.

And UNC goes viral all the time. From the dancing kid on ESPN to Sup Dogs’ posters, we thrive on social media.

One thing at Delaware went viral — two people were filmed having sex behind a dumpster, sadly prompting the hashtag #DumpsterGirl.

There are a lot of things I don’t do. Besides two weeks ago when I watched “The Danish Girl” a little buzzed, I don’t cry. But when UNC lost in the National Championship, I cried.

Because UNC is different. Its sports, its art, its culture.