Just minutes before I sat down at my desk and flipped open The Reflector to Chad Hammons’ letter proclaiming that the parking problem does in fact exist, I was recouping from a little parking skirmish of my own.
As I re-entered campus at the end of my lunch hour, I rued the fact that I’d had to abandon my beautiful 7:15 parking spot to run an errand. The 15 minutes it took to move the half-mile across campus left me feeling that this would be yet another day of needing to stay later to make up the extra time taken at lunch. As I entered my staff parking lot, I was again impeded by a car bearing a student decal that was creeping along looking for a space.
As we passed car after parked car with student decals, I could not help but feel angry and anxious as the clock kept ticking, “you’re late, you’re late.” This was totally unfair; after all, these irresponsible rule-breakers were trespassing on my turf and making me look bad to the people I work for. But, at the same time, I was torn by a wave of guilt as the little voice inside of me whispered, “Well, where else are they supposed to go?” After all, hadn’t I been in their situation numerous times before?
Mr. Hammons mentioned his theory that the faculty and staff shared his view. I, for one, am a staff member who agrees. Of course it affects us, and we honestly do care about the students’ plight. What should be a routine and unnoticeable part of the day has turned into a cold war that pits employees against students. I don’t think Darwin ever intended “Survival of the Fittest” to apply to campus parking.
Centuries ago, Columbus proved that the world was not flat. Today, can’t we apply that theory to our university as well? We don’t have to keep looking for places to pave outward; we could make it quite convenient and accessible to everyone by building upward. A strategically placed parking garage would solve many, many of our current problems with space and vicinity. And, after all, why not? Hospitals do it. Hotels do it. Other universities do it.
Back to the story, my anxiety steadily rose as the student crept nearer to the one open parking space I had spotted coming into the lot. As we turned into the final row, I could not help but laugh aloud in my car. There sat my guardian angel, my ambassador of punctuality-a campus police officer. I felt pity for the student as she angrily moved on, but I took my parking space with a sense of ownership, justice and just enough time to dash upstairs to my office by the toll of the hour.
Karen Goodwin works in the department of marketing, quantitative analysis, and business law.