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.)