Walking into Peirce the first week after break, something felt off. Something had changed, but what was it? Throughout dinner that night, no one said a word, too preoccupied with the cause of this malaise– the sudden disappearance of the speed bumps that once surrounded Peirce. So what happened to them? As Kenyon’s top investigative journal since 1824, The Thrill strives to enlighten the student body with the truth, so we were on the case to solve this mystery.
Hello, yes, it’s that time of year again. Everybody’s making the trek home, whether that involves putting your trust in an elaborate bureaucratic system hellbent on putting you in a metal tube that slingshots you through the air, or taking matters into our own hands and driving home. I live on Long Island, a fact that for some reason upsets every single person I know. This means, among other things, that it’s a nine-hour drive from here to home, and with City traffic and Long Island traffic, it’s more like a twelve hour drive home. So I usually fly, but I have notoriously horrible luck traveling. If I fly, there’s about a fifty percent chance my flight will get cancelled. I’ve been laid over and stranded in Charlotte, Seattle, LaGuardia, Columbus, and Washington D.C., and one time I booked a flight that didn’t exist.
[Editor’s note: I was on the same flight as Chris for Thanksgiving break and we did have to deplane and wait for a new one because our first plane’s door hatch was broken, causing a 2 hour delay. Bad travel luck confirmed]
So last spring break I thought, why don’t I drive home. I didn’t have a car, but my friend Lily did, and she lived just outside New York City. Eight hour drive home, take the train into the city, and from the city to the island. What could go wrong?
I got stuck in a blizzard for fifteen hours.
Tell me if this sounds familiar: You wake up bright and early in the morning, hair washed, makeup perfect, ready for your 8:10 theory class, only to find a slew of campus parking tickets clogging up your windshield. You try to remove them with your ungloved hands only to find they’re frozen solid. Your ice scraper is useless. Poseidon cackles at your undying misery. All of your struggles are in vain.
I nailed it, right? Parking on this campus is everyone’s problem. As signs indicating where and for how long one can park in a spot seem to be “so yesterday,” it’s up to us to use context clues and vague hearsay in order to navigate the fierce, unrelenting world of campus parking lots. I brought my car here after Thanksgiving break, and since then, I’ve been randomly guessing at the vehicle rules everyone learned during the weeklong grace period Safety grants to returning students in September. It’s the worst. Let’s help each other, okay? (And by help each other, I mean help me. I’m drowning in parking tickets. I have no idea which way is up. Please.)
And we’re not too proud to beg. Don’t you want the chance to receive instant Kenyon fame, following in the footsteps of Elementary-School Journal celebs like Elizabeth “EGG” Gambal ’14, Dylan “P.S. What Is My Car” Kaye ’15 or Tim “Futur Tim” Jurney ’15? Of course you do. Don’t be an idiot. Email your elementary-school gems (or early high school, as long as they’re sufficiently embarrassing) to firstname.lastname@example.org, and experience the purest form of Kenyon celebrity.
Sometimes I think I am attending college and sometimes I think I am attending academic camp for rich kids. But I’m graduating with a degree either way, right? The next time you would also like to be confused about the purpose of Kenyon College, take a look around one of the parking lots. And as Miracle Mahle, the Campus Safety Administrative Assistant, has told us, while 192 seniors, 101 juniors and 72 sophomores have a car at school, it must be kept in mind that having a motor vehicle at Kenyon , is a PRIVILEGE, not a right. Maybe that’s why there’s currently a Jaguar in the South 1 lot.