I hate to end the semester on a negative note, but I have a formal complaint. As someone who takes the majority of her classes on East Campus, it’s something I’ve noticed time and again and I must speak my truth. That’s right freshmen, I’m talking to you.
Apparently most of the Class of 2013 did not use public transportation back at home and are unaware of the do’s and don’ts of traditional bus etiquette. I have been shoved one too many times; I have seen too few underclassmen pay attention to the route labeled clearly in glowing neon letters and I have cringed all too often at a fellow rider’s complete and utter disregard for the driver that takes him from A to B.
I’ve flirted with the idea of suggesting a mandatory bus seminar for all incoming freshmen during Orientation Week next year, but I realize I don’t have that authority. Fear not! I will simply take matters into my own hands. That said, remember, I’m no bus traffic controller: I’m a columnist.
Lesson 1: Let everyone on the bus exit before you enter. It’s just like an elevator, people. The cluster caused by this lack of order is not only frustrating, but it impedes the bus’s already tight schedule.
There truly is nothing worse than watching this confusion: Two riders, one in a hurry to exit, the other in a rush to enter, each look up as they are face to face on the narrow bus stairs. Unable to shuffle sideways and let the other pass, they force the developing lines of students behind them, both in and outside the bus, to back up. Book bags flail, angry yells erupt and worst of all, the bus must sit at its stop for additional minutes. I know, I know, “minutes” doesn’t seem like much, but when it’s 10:01 a.m. and you have a 10:05 a.m. on East, every minute is precious.
Lesson 2: Read those bright neon, entirely CAPITALIZED, they’re-in-the-same-place-on-every-bus letters before getting on the bus. It always baffles me to look up during my commute back home to see another rider with a look of sheer shock plastered on his face. What he thought was the C-1 was actually the C-2 and now he must go all the way to Central Campus before the bus takes him to East. This is a problem that can easily be avoided.
What if the bus doesn’t have bright neon capital letters instructing riders which route it takes? Well then, it’s a Robertson Bus and you don’t know by now, it goes to Chapel Hill. Unless you’re a Robertson Scholar or a fun seeking 21 year-old headed to Franklin Street, avoid this bus at all costs. It will not take you to your dorm room.
Lesson 3: Say hello to the bus drivers. Perhaps this is my Southern upbringing ringing true, but I am a firm believer in being courteous to all people, especially to those who provide us with a unique service. A friendly “hello” or a pleasant smile brightens everyone’s day. Besides, don’t they hold your life in their hands for five to seven minutes? Do unto others…
Lesson 4: Your bookbag does not need its own seat. I understand your laptop is fragile, but so is mine and it has survived many a trip in my book bag rested on the bus floor. More seats for more riders means fewer innocent students stranded at the bus stop.
And last, but certainly not least, Lesson 5: Breakfast, lunch, dinner and hot coffee should not be consumed on a moving bus. The reasoning behind this final lesson is two-fold. First, none of the buses (to my knowledge) have any sort of air circulation other than an open window. Therefore, if you eat Sitar during your commute from West to East, not only will you smell like curried chicken, but I will too. Don’t get me wrong; I love this Great Hall favorite as much as the next person, but some find its aroma offensive, particularly when preparing to take a test or interview for a job.
Second, the road quality on campus is sub-par. We all know this. The potholes are giant craters that plague the campus roads. Truly, there was one outside of White Lecture Hall that could have held me captive forever if I’d been unaware and fallen into its gravel abyss. Needless to say, the buses must drive over these potholes, as many of them make their home in the middle of Campus Drive.
Ah, basic math: a cup of scalding hot coffee riding in a 14-ton bus going 25 miles per hour over a pothole will spill onto its carrier and its carrier’s neighbors and it will burn. Badly. If you must bring coffee with you, make sure it has a lid.
I’ve spoken my peace (in my final piece!), so let us go forth and be courteous for the remaining three days of class. Happy Friday.
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