I love this time of year. As someone who has happily spent his whole life luxuriating in the weather patterns north of the Mason-Dixon Line, I find it somehow deeply disturbing when we enjoy such exhaustingly fine weather for so long. Cleveland, by this time, is already in all of its fall finery. The University, on the other hand, has had nothing more to boast of than an unbelievably trying stretch of perfect conditions. It's a little too much for me.
So I am overjoyed to see that the weather is taking a turn for what some might call the worst, but I prefer to think of as the awesome. I'm addicted to bad weather. Thunder is my best friend. Strong destructive winds make me happy to be alive. Torrential downpours are like a warm, enveloping blanket. Cold snaps, hoarfrost, first snows; all these things are the things of my dreams.
And yet I cannot look forward to the atrocious weather that awaits us with undiluted pleasure. Even a hardy northerner like me needs a way to get around Grounds on days when the weather gets bad, when I start expecting W.C. Fields to pop out of a nearby doorway to get hit by a shovelful of snow, when walking just won't cut it. The University, of course, with its usual warm concern for our wellbeing, has provided us with just such a mechanism: the University Transit Service.
UTS seems like a great organization. I know at least one bus driver personally who is just a really great guy. I bear no grudges. I don't blame the people; I blame the system.
For whatever reason, though, the inadequacies of our on-Grounds transportation are mind-boggling. I quickly learned last year that UTS and I were not to be friends, so while making my daily trek from New Dorms to central Grounds I would always be tempted by the bus stops I passed. I felt like an alcoholic struggling with the drink; I knew perfectly well that whatever decision I made would cause me pain. Most of the time I ignored the siren allure of the bus stop and kept walking. Almost invariably on these occasions a bus would come roaring past me a few minutes later, loaded down with all the people I had passed minutes before, while I manfully tried to hold back my tears on the long slog down McCormick.
On the occasions when I yielded to temptation and stopped to wait, of course, no bus ever came. But to add insult to injury, while I stood and hopelessly watched my slim margin of time before class whittle itself into oblivion, I always would see a bus appear at the corresponding stop on the other side of the street. Often it was not just one bus, but two or three or even four, driving bumper to bumper in the opposite direction from that in which I needed to proceed. Why in God's name would four buses all be driving one behind the other in the same direction?
Nor is the malign intellect behind UTS limited to such simple tricks in its perpetual quest to destroy our lives. For example, last week I decided that I needed to go buy some food at Barracks Road
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | 3 days agoWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 5 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
