The brutal scent of arctic weather chills the swirling air.  The clatter of a car engine struggling to start makes joyous harmony with the deadening silence of the gathering piles of snow. Running behind your time, tires squealing, you take turns like a caffeined-up Mario Andretti, groaning as you skid into I Lot, wondering how adults, otherwise competent, somehow consistently and catastrophically fail to park inside their designated spaces.  You fly from the car like papa from his warm winter’s nap to spy santa on the rooftop, sprint up the backstairs, spilling coffee all over yourself and any unsuspecting bystanders in a lukewarm geyser of sadness, and sneak into class a minute late. All that for a minute late. This is the morning. The morning faced by commuters every day.

Let’s talk about being a commuter.  Being a commuter isn’t easy, but it also has a lot of advantages.  The constant rush of getting up early, packing, battling traffic, and literally running to classes if something goes wrong with your commute can be draining; but the luxury of living at home feels worth it.  Most days. The addition of the Highlands and other things that condense the campus have really helped some of us get around with less panic and fewer back injuries. Thanks a lot, Norton Publishing. English majors feel my pain. We know the struggle.  We, who are used to receiving those strange looks when we say, “I’m heading home,” on a Tuesday night, exchange knowing glances as we pass one another in the hallway, toting our half-empty lunch pails and hard-set stares. We have felt the tug of a dozen Norton Anthologies in our backpacks, tugging us downward as if to the grave, yet we fight on stubbornly with the bravery found in the small hours, as a wise man once said… that and an insane amount of personal isolation.

 When you have a corner on campus that becomes known as your corner; chances are you’re a commuter seeking a study nook.  The Highlands? Too mainstream! Give me the alcove between the vending machines and the janitor’s closet.  Now that’s cosy. I’ve been commuting since my Freshman year, among the Israel and Archaeology cohort. I got used to being the odd one out when only two people in the whole suite of cohorts made the trek to and from campus on a daily basis.  That was difficult, as the cohorts were so focused on building a small, united on campus unit. Yet, I never felt out of touch in the small group despite my nightly withdraw from it.

However, after my first year, that “out of touch” feeling shared by many commuters, which I had never known before, invaded my campus experience.  It builds out of little mundane things, like the bricks that go into a building. You hear about everything third-hand. Events are missed, strange smells are reported, and odd going-ons escape your attention and you only gain knowledge of such useful happenings when you find yourself trapped in a self-fumigating bathroom.  You know the one of which I speak.

Us commuters are a strange bunch and we need some love.  Please stop looking at us like we’re aliens when we say we’re going home for the night;  trust us for local restaurant recommendations; and for pity’s sake park straight and give us a little room.  We need love and acceptance just like you do. While you may have to combat bed bugs and shared showers, you also don’t have to deal with a morning commute and the lack of a provided hot breakfast.  Nor do you have to deal with a lounge “especially for us” which is now half a bank, even though most commuters have their own banks off-campus. This area is also stocked with a small amount of silverware for our convenience.  I appreciate that, but am I alone in saying that I would prefer if we just had some paper plates and plastic utensils rather than dealing with someone else’s dishes on a regular basis? Isn’t that how the bubonic plague started anyway?

 While events like commuter lunches and doughnut days are appreciated, they’re often inconveniently timed with the class schedule so that commuters don’t have time to attend them, as they specifically come to campus to attend the classes they pay for, not to eat.  Taking into account scheduling differences, improving public areas, creating more comfortable group seating, and planning activities easy for commuters to attend has gotten significantly better since my first year, it still lets us fall through the planning gaps despite the fact that we take up a significant portion of the student body.

That being said, commuters, get yourselves out there!  We have clubs! Tons of clubs filled with awesome people who will probably love you.  Why aren’t you going to them? If you have the time to watch five ten-minute YouTube videos, you have time to be part of a club.  Try out for chorale, join the musical, play intramural sports, join the videogame club, or (shameless plug) come and join the Creative Writing club 7-8 on Monday nights in BL234 for a night of creative discovery and thoughtful companionship.  Convenience is important, especially when making several trips to campus a day or staying on campus for hours on end is aggravating and/or unfeasible, but inconveniencing yourself for the sake of something that you love is almost always worth it.  As Christians, we are supposed to love one another. Get out there and get lovin’ commuters! There’s a whole new world of undiscovered community waiting for you. Fly free my little birds! Find your clubs! Find your extracurriculars! And be content.  Your path is not everyone’s path, but someone knows your gripes, someone knows your frustration, and I’m sure they want to listen.

Here, take my soap box before I fall off it due to complications from my Norton-related back injuries.

Thank you.