COLUMN: Up the hill and through the madness to Algebra class we go
It would be sensible to think that after spending a whole year in Utah, I’d be used to the incredible lack of oxygen here at approximately 1382.561839 meters above sea level. It would also be fair to assume that being back here from the East Coast for a month would be long enough for me to habituate to this harsh altiplano environment.
No such luck. My incredibly sedentary vacation has still left me unable to cope with scaling the fierce “Rocky Mountains” every morning on the way to class. Probably not alone, I bet that before I get up in the morning, there are countless other exhausted students lying down just below the crest of Old Main Hill. Gasping for air and wondering why they brought all their books with them, they hope never to have to live down in the “Island” again.
Once the dreadful hurricane-force canyon winds are factored into the experience, I figure I should receive some “Excellence in Mountaineering” award for spending countless hours scaling the slopes of Old Main Hill. Alas, performing this large, daily task is vital to my success in school. What easier excuse to sleep through class than a fear of climbing the 124 (yes I counted) steps up to campus? Every morning at least 90 vertical feet of treachery separates my bed and academic excellence.
Some of you lucky punks never feel the thrill of exhaustion before a 7:30 a.m. class, but I’m sure you have to deal with some of the other minor frustrations in life. No, I’m not talking about the persistent itch on that ridiculously small area of your back that can never be reached without a good friend or equally kind door jam. By the way, if you have any enemies, this is also the most vulnerable location on which to affix an elusive “kick me” sign.
My point is that every day we suffer annoying difficulties that can never easily be solved. For example, yesterday I had to wear a coat to class in the morning, but by afternoon, the temperature had reached a balmy 65 degrees. I doubt the new engineering building was fabricated with an extensive afternoon wardrobe designed for me to use in the early fall and late spring. Goodness knows I don’t want to go home and change at midday and suffer Old Main’s wrath a second time, so like your common boy scout, I lug around way too much in my pack just to be comfortable. I can’t wait until January when I have to pack gaiters and crampons too!
My walk through the maze of what appears to be the Taggart Student Center’s lower level is also pretty horrendous. As if not bumping into students and treading on small children at lunchtime were hard enough for such a big guy, every day I must mentally prepare by getting in “the zone” to survive the potentially hazardous 30-second walk through the TSC. Solutions can be found, and as a physicist, I feel privileged to share my discovery the proper “Frogger”-style way to move unimpeded through the building in an easterly direction.
Before entering, remove your sunglasses and watch for outflow traffic, people who like to open doors in your face. Assuming you’ve now figured out how to use the doors (pull, not push) step lightly around the stacks of unwanted newspaper ads, making sure to avoid the kids waiting in line for vacant computer terminals. Keep in mind that people of all sizes will be moving in various, threatening directions. Next, put back on your sunglasses and stick in your earphones to easily evade the handout guys without stopping. Carefully make your way to the left side of the hall to check your mailbox, but not so soon that you clip the last guy in the post office line and smash into the “post office boxes for rent” billboard. After discovering that no one except Visa and Comcast love you enough to send mail, pretend you’re really in a hurry to make it past the folks at tables wanting you to sign something, probably the rights to the left side of your bed.
Presuming success thus far, prepare for the hardest task ahead. As you swing wide to miss the folks with blank stares and too much time – yup, the people watching DVDs on the bookstore plasma screen television, don’t forget to begin dodging the activity and club banners. Better yet, walk in between the advertisements to avoid constant ducking. This way, strangers will not think you are nodding in approval at their mere existence. The signs are now gone; only a little more foot shuffling and a sprint is needed to arrive at the finish, the TSC patio.
Congratulations, you have passed level one. Find me and ask me how to get past the second difficulty level, navigation involving a take-out lunch at The Hub.
Sure, life has its inconveniences, so instead of sitting passively and reading a magazine, figure out a clever way to navigate your trials. Besides, that magazine will probably spill several dozen subscription cards on the floor – I hate that!
Garrett Wheeler is a graduate student studying electrical engineering. Comments to can be sent to him at wheel@cc.usu.edu.