Introduction to a Commuter Student

"Live with a man 40 years. Share his house, his meals. Speak on every subject. Then tie him up, and hold him over the volcano's edge. And on that day, you will finally meet the man."

-Joss Whedon

I never realized what an awful person I was until I found myself at five minutes til class searching for a parking space the day of an exam. Being a somewhat punctual person, I made a point of arriving on campus with a planned excess of about twenty minutes prior to class each day I commuted to the Norman campus at the University of Oklahoma. This habit was fairly well established by the time midterm examinations rolled around my first semester. I felt comfortable and secure with my route, a drive of about fifty minutes from the north side of Oklahoma City. My exits were firmly conditioned, and I could drive it easily without having to constantly remind myself to pay attention to the road. I have always struggled with using a GPS navigator or software; the robot voice interruptions every few minutes I choose to avoid when possible.

And then came the construction.

Gone was my routine and twenty-minute time cushion! Gone was my comfortable walk in the sunshine, as I sipped coffee and made my way to class! Gone was the knowledge that a parking space would be securely mine!

No notice was given, that I was aware of. One day, as I drove towards my looming exam, a wall of orange and white blocked my windshield. Cones and construction workers and striped barriers filled my view. Streets were blocked off, detours were poorly detailed, and I found myself racing up one side street and down another, just to find another dead end. My goal, the Asp Avenue Parking Garage, was very near, but I simply lacked the Norman street knowledge to approach it in time. As I rounded yet another unknown turn, I saw a clear path at last. My entrance to the garage was decidedly unsafe, and I realized that I had broken a cardinal rule.

Never arrive past nine.

I am not proud of my actions that day. My normally patient and courteous driving style was replaced with that a vicious maniac screeching through the garage and glaring mad-eyed at potential competitors in the race for a space. I sped, honked, threw my hands in the air, and even managed to cut off at least three drivers, all to no avail. This, I realized, was not a part of me I was comfortable with. This was my volcano. Looping through again and again there were no spaces to be had, and perhaps twenty other unfortunates in my same plight joined me as I began to despair. Then, just when all hope was lost, something miraculous occurred. A young student stared straight at me and pointed at his car, perhaps forty feet ahead, as he exited the stairwell. I was fortunate that day, and the satisfaction and relief I enjoyed as I parked was immeasurable. My exam was only four minutes away, but I had found a parking space. All was right with the world again.

Subterranean Parking Lot
Image Source: Wikimedia Commons