After about an hour of studying and catching glimpses of the text, talk and walks, I began to appreciate how hard it was for people to use their phones and walk at the same time. If they added bubble gum to the mix we would’ve probably needed an ambulance. A few people did display an elegant swagger to talking and texting while they traveled throughout the building, but they were the minority. A few phone pros really didn’t compare to the ones that looked like a bull in a china shop. One young male, who was texting as he got up from his table, clumsily tipped over his coffee. Another girl answered her phone, started digging through her purse and knocked over her books. But the best one occurred when I was getting up to grab a drink. A very tall slender girl was walking at a fast pace from the area of the DUC were the food trays get dropped off. She was texting on her phone with her head down, and before anyone knew it she had crossed through the maze of scattered chairs and tables and walked smack dab into the side of the wall near the bathrooms and dropped everything she was carrying, including herself. She was scuffed up a little, but the meeting between her and the wall really wasn’t that bad. She gazed around the room with the embarrassed look that someone has when they walk into a wall, if there is such a look. So I guess it’s okay for people to be allowed to text and talk on their phones. However, it would be entertaining if they were forced to run while they do it. This way at least the rest of us who are annoyed by them can now be entertained when they crash into things.

Due to lack of communication regarding the construction on the 40, there were (and currently are) only two plausible ways of walking to campus. One route is between JKL and Lee, and the other route is all the way around the Wohl parking garage. The first method is very dangerous, filled with puddles and freshmen, while the second route makes me understand how it felt to get from New York to California by ship before the Panama Canal was built. As the first few days of classes were not conducive to trekking, the sweltering heat at 10 in the morning made my journey feel more grueling than Frodo’s. Clayco’s answer to this problem was to build a series of temporary stairs like mazes between construction zones, which of course can lead you nowhere.

My experiences with bicycles this semester have not been good. I first tried borrowing one from a friend, and it ended up being similar to a deathtrap. Due to a lack of maintenance (and usage), the back brakes are nonfunctional, the seat is loose, the tires are flat and the front wheel is pulling to the right. I nearly died the first time I rode it. I was wise enough to grit my teeth and buy my own.

The final method I chose to use was the campus circulator. My experiences with it have been nothing short of terrifying, hilarious and maddening. On some occasions, the driver tries to eliminate the waiting time per stop delay, and you better get out of the way in those moments. It does not matter what race, gender or disabilities you have, pray you can jump out of its path. Last year, as my friend and I were riding the bus, the driver rocketed around the turn from Wallace Drive into Mallinckrodt, and two poor students had the misfortune of not walking on the sidewalk. The driver came up from behind and honked his horn menacingly. One of the kids probably had to change his pants, and the other exhibited “deer in the headlights” characteristics. On another occasion, it was a bitter winter morning and there was a long line at the Clocktower. Students were frozen, praying for the campus circulator. He came a little early, but kids gratefully clambered aboard. All the kids had boarded, and we noticed a kid on crutches limping toward the bus. The bus driver proceeded to invoke the Pirates’ Code: Those who fall behind get left behind. The kid started to move faster but was left in the snow. I can’t help laughing as I write this, but it sure would have sucked to be that kid.

A note to the freshmen: Wash. U. is not a large campus, but when it is snowing and 2 degrees below zero, your dorm seems like miles away. In general, I suggest bikes as the best method of transportation. Walking isn’t bad if you aren’t in a rush, but if you are really late or if it is raining, take a deep breath, and pray the campus circulator stops for you.

When people walk and talk on the phone, they are not very aware of what is around them. As many driving studies have demonstrated, talking on the phone destroys your situational awareness. This effect does not end when you get out of the car.

This obliviousness to our surroundings is disappointing, especially since Washington University goes to such pains to keep the grounds manicured. Each landscaped flower is carefully arranged and mulched. The newly planted trees hold the promise of becoming large and climbable like the ginkos on the east side of Olin Library. Even the sidewalks are laid out with colorful flagstones lining them. Everything is designed to capture your eye.

With all of this attention to aesthetics, it is surprising that the University has not given much thought to how people are actually getting around campus. For a pedestrian, campus is nice and navigable, with the only glaring error being down in front of Brookings. There, the only direct path from the art school to Whitaker Hall is walking down Hoyt Drive. If you like to walk without worrying about being run over by a car, you must backtrack and go through Brookings Quad.

For bicyclists, getting around campus is awful. Pedestrians clog the sidewalks. Other cyclists are trying to navigate through the torrent of people. All of this means dodging around and going much slower than you would like. For these reasons, most figure that riding to and from class is not worth the effort if one is living on campus.

It is not only inconvenient to have bikes and pedestrians mixing on the sidewalks, but it is also dangerous. Many of us have had the unwelcome experience of a close call. A bike goes whipping by on our right side just as we are turning to the right, or we are biking around a corner just as another bike is rounding it.

It is because of these near accidents that states have relegated bikes to the street. For a center of knowledge, the University can act out of character at times. (For another example, see how dining has changed on the South 40.) A simple yellow line laid down on the sidewalks would be an effective temporary improvement. But consider the aesthetics! That yellow line would not fit in with the planted flowers, the new trees, or the collegiate gothic architecture.

Without ruining the beauty of campus, there must be a way to safely incorporate the growing number of bikes on campus. The best time to lay out paths for pedestrians and bicyclists is the first time, and while that is past for most of the Danforth Campus and the South 40, the new construction should have adequate paths.

Admittedly, the University has bigger fish to fry and will probably never get around to bike paths. So, we pedestrians and bicyclists can make our commute more enjoyable by paying attention to our surroundings. There are many beautiful things in each day that we overlook: from the hue of the sky to the flower growing alongside the path. By actively looking around, we can be safer and find the value in the intervening space between class and home.

Due to the lack of communication regarding the construction on the South 40, there are only two plausible ways of walking to campus. One route is between JKL and Lee and the other route is all the way around the Wohl Parking Garage. The first method is very dangerous, filled with puddles and freshmen, while the second route makes me understand how it felt to go from New York to California before the Panama Canal was built. The first few days of classes were not conducive to trekking, and the sweltering heat at 10 in the morning made my journey feel more grueling than Frodo’s. I still feel that Clayco should have left a path from the Wohl Center to the Clocktower open.

My experiences with bicycles this semester have not been good. My suitemate’s bike is nothing short of a death trap. Due to lack of maintenance (and usage), the back brakes were nonfunctional, the seat was loose, the tires were flat and the front wheel was pulling to the right. I nearly died the first time I rode it. I was wise enough to leave it alone.

The final method I chose to use was the campus circulator. My experiences with that have been nothing short of terrifying, hilarious and maddening. On some occasions, the driver tries to eliminate the waiting time delay per stop, and you’d better get out of the way in those moments. It does not matter what race, gender or disabilities you have; pray you can jump out of the way in time.

Last year, my friend and I were riding the bus, and the driver rocketed around the turn from Wallace Drive into the Mallinckrodt parking lot. Two poor students had the misfortune of not walking on the sidewalk. The driver came up from behind and honked his horn menacingly. One of the kids probably had to change his pants, and the other exhibited “deer in the headlights” characteristics. On another occasion, it was a bitter winter morning and there was a long line at the Clocktower. Kids were frozen, praying for the campus circulator. He came a little earlier, but kids gratefully clambered aboard. All the kids had boarded, and we noticed a kid on crutches limping toward the bus. Guess what happened next. Bus driver invoked the Pirates’ Rule: Those who fall behind get left behind. The kid started to move faster but was left in the snow. I can’t help laughing as I write this, but it did suck to be that kid that time.

A note to the freshmen: Wash. U. is not a large campus, but when it is snowing and two degrees below zero, your dorm seems like miles away. In general, I suggest using bikes as the best method of transportation. Walking isn’t bad if you aren’t in a rush, but if you are really late or if it is raining, take a deep breath and pray the campus circulator stops for you.

Oh, and remember to register to vote.