Commute to Campus on Foot
As I walk from my apartment, I pass the West Campus bus stop, which is crowded as always, probably more so today due to the heat. Thinking of it as a way to get in some exercise, I decide to walk, convincing myself it is not that far to campus. I notice I am one of the few to make that decision. A group of sorority girls (I assume) walk in a pack ahead of me, blocking the sidewalk, while a guy passes me quickly, binder in hand, and makes his way around them, a little annoyed. The girls take another route and it becomes quiet, which makes me notice that most people walk wearing earphones, talking or texting on their phones, reading a book, or occupying themselves in some other way. A bicycle passes close by me on the street with an impatient car at his heels. Ahead the pedestrian crossing light is flashing and one girl runs to get across, with her backpack bobbing, while others nonchalantly stroll across the intersection, even though the “walk” light is off. I don’t make it and stand, waiting for the light to change again. I feel fidgety and look to see if others around me do too; I notice the girl waiting on the other side of the street readjusts her backpack, her shirt, and cracks her knuckles.
I stop at a bench near the Harry Ransom Center, where many people sit reading and drinking coffee, while others pass by hurriedly, checking their watches; it is an interesting contrast, I think. I begin walking again on the sidewalk towards the clock tower. Looking at people passing, I make eye contact, but they or I quickly look away…something that becomes a game in my head to see who can hold the longest. I hear the shuffle of feet close behind me, which makes me feel like I have to walk more quickly, and I take note of the different speeds at which everyone is walking. I pass a girl walking, drinking coffee, and reading at the same time; she almost runs into me. I pass the tower as it chimes ten o’clock and people around me start to run or walk more quickly. I sit down next to a guy talking on the phone in a different language.
After a few minutes I begin walking again, this time, most of the sidewalks are clear since everyone is in class. A girl with a clear plastic backpack passes in front of me, reminding me of middle school days when those were “cool.” Walking down the stairs toward the East Mall I spot two girls with blonde ponytails wearing the exact same thing and walking in step with each other. As I’m watching them, I almost get hit by a biker I don’t see who is riding on the sidewalk. I head down the East Mall and pass a group of older students with accents, probably graduate students, I think, and one of them gets up and says, “Well guys have a good Monday!” and walks away. It is Wednesday. I keep walking and cut across the circular road across the street from the art building since there is very little vehicle traffic there. I pass a girl holding an umbrella, which makes me almost involuntarily look up at the sunny sky. I cross the intersection of 23rd and San Jacinto, where lots of buses are waiting but not many people. A bicycle cop rides fast on the sidewalk right behind me, ringing his bell, which scares me and makes me jump out of the way. I hear two bus drivers talking loudly, and can’t make out what they are saying, but they sound either angry or excited. I arrive at the art building and conclude my commute of .8 miles.
Commute from Campus on Foot
As I walk out of the art building, I pass people huddled under the bus stop shelter because it is sprinkling rain. The thought crosses my mind to ride the bus back to my apartment, but I decide against it at the thought of being herded onto a crowded and damp bus. I go across the crosswalk without even looking for cars, assuming they will stop as most others do. I pass two people talking and taking up the sidewalk in the process, while others circle around them to get past. I sit down to take notes. A girl with an unusually large umbrella passes; perhaps a little excessive for the current weather condition, I think. I stand up to realize I’ve sat on a wet bench and now I have a stain on my shorts. I get up and brush off, a little embarrassed, and I head up the steps by the fountain near the East Mall, where there always seems to be a lot of pedestrian traffic as people wind around the stairs. There’s a huge puddle in the middle of the sidewalk at the top of the stairs, which causes even more “congestion” as people walk the narrow dry part, hop over, or walk in the dirt to avoid it. I pass a boy listening to his ipod who spins around once as he is walking. Perhaps a spontaneous dance move?
I look for another place to sit but realize everything is wet so I keep walking, hoping I won’t forget anything to write down. As I climb the stairs toward the tower, a girl and boy are ahead of me. The girl is laughing loudly, then stops and makes an over-dramatic gesture and yells to the boy in a flirty way, “Oh my gosh you’re so ridiculous!” compensating perhaps for the boys seeming disinterest. She continues talking loudly as if she wants people around her to hear her. She succeeds, I think, as people around the intersection turn to see what the commotion is. The two continue walking, with the girl still talking loudly, apparently unaware.
I still can’t find a dry place to sit. I walk across the south mall as the tower bell chimes and decide to sit on a wet bench, but on the edge where it is most dry. A girl comes out of the tower and sprints across the mall toward the “six-pack.” Two university employees take down the America flag and seem confused on how to fold it. I get up and start walking again, not caring anymore about my wet shorts.
Campus seems quiet and kind of eerie at 5:30, and only one girl walks some distance ahead of me, talking on the phone. I approach the intersection of Guadalupe and 22nd St. and notice the heavy traffic. I wait a long time at the crosswalk, and finally cross with cars on my heels, waiting to turn right or left after I cross. There is a guy walking next to me and I notice out of the corner of my eye that his feet seem unusual. I look down and see that he is wearing those shoes with the toes in them that look like duck feet to me. I notice the people walking with me either walk in large groups, in pairs, or alone; if they walk alone, most have some electronic device (ipod, cell phone, etc.) to keep them occupied. The bus stops next to me and splashes water up. I cross another intersection where I have a stand-off with a car over who will cross first. I win. I become aware that people are walking in zig-zags to avoid puddles or mud, sometimes having to hop over when no dry option is available to step on. I pass a large apartment complex where a boy rushes out the front gate and sprints like an Olympic track star down the street to reach the bus before it leaves, as if it would be the end of the world for him to have to walk. I approach my apartment and enter the parking lot to find it full of big puddles. I have to devise a path between them; hopping, zig-zagging, and feeling a little childish I finally make it home.
Commute from Campus by Bus
I get on the bus after my evening class to find it fairly empty. A little disappointed at the lack of good, observable “material,” I head to the back of the bus, which is empty, to get a better vantage point of the front, which has filled up first. Everyone is quiet, either reading or texting on their phones. Two similar-looking girls sit ahead of me, sipping the same drink. They talk to each other while texting other friends at the same time. I wait about five minutes. A girl gets on just before the bus doors close, and she sees someone she knows, sits down and starts talking to them.
As we set off on our journey to West Campus, our impatient bus driver nearly side-swipes a car that is parallel-parking. At the first stop, three people get on and head towards the empty back of the bus and sit facing the window, careful to avoid eye contact with the people sitting across from them. A girl fumbles to reach the stop cord. As the bus passes a fraternity house, the two girls sitting in front of me sit on the edge of their seats, whispering and giggling, to see shirtless boys playing basketball outside. At the next stop, half of the people on the bus get off. A guy sitting across from me keeps looking at me suspiciously as I jot down notes. A girl stands up prematurely as the next stop approaches, and she is jaunted forward as the bus slams to a stop. A girl gets on, looking around expectantly, as if hoping to see someone she knows. Seemingly disappointed, she sits down on a row by herself. The bus turns a corner and is following close behind a biker. My stop approaches and I gather my purse and notebook. With a sigh of relief, I exit the bus and head toward my apartment.
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