By Dessa Bayrock (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: April 3, 2013
It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you aren’t supposed to walk on the grass. But let’s be honest: we all do it.
I’m thinking of one campus route in particular – the grassy knoll between C building and the curve of D building. You know, where the sidewalk heads out that way but then circles back for no reason?
There’s a gentle slope leading down from the edge of the extremity of C’s concrete path to the one winding around D building, and I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason why there isn’t a path between the two.
Somehow that reason becomes less obvious when I’ve lost a shoe in the mud.
On dry days, the dirt path connector can be followed with ease. On wonderful spring-showery days, it becomes a deceiving obstacle course of puddles, potholes and the kind of mud that stubbornly clings to shoes all day.
And no matter how many times I tell myself I’ll loop around and stick to the (much longer) properly paved path, I never do. I’m either too lazy or in too much of a hurry. After all, it is the most direct path between C and AfterMath, or C and the gym, or C and the Envision Athletic Centre, or C and the bookstore … my list could go on.
There are a couple of ways to navigate the mud, depending on how waterlogged the path is.
The first tactic is to pretend that it’s a perfectly serviceable path, regardless of its state. Walk normally – not too quickly, not too slowly, and only casually looking at the ground. With this approach, you’re trying to trick the ground into being stable and dry. I must admit that this hasn’t worked too well for me in the past, but maybe you’re more persuasive than I am.
The second tactic is to regress to kindergarten and pretend the floor is lava; ignore your surroundings entirely, except for a two-foot radius in front of you. Pick the most likely dry spots and don’t be afraid to occasionally twirl like a ballerina to get enough momentum to leap across the last stretch. Note: requires a complete lack of self-consciousness, since you will most likely end up looking like an idiot. Keep in mind that you are a stressed and tired student, not a gazelle, and your leaping skills are woefully lacking. If you’re walking with anyone you’re even remotely trying to impress, this tactic is not for you.
Tactic three: be idiotically brave and badass. Take the most direct route regardless of puddles. Cultivate an attitude of I-don’t-give-a-fuck and prepare for your shoes to be soggy the rest of the day. Upside: this is the fastest way through any rough terrain. Downside: there is no way to tell how deep those puddles are until you’ve actually stepped in them, and it’s not going to be pretty.
The fourth tactic, of course, is just to stick to the more roundabout route and take the paved path.
It’s possible that one day someone will build a path between the two, but on the other hand, green space is part of what makes our campus beautiful. Do we really want paths connecting everything?
Besides, work crews seem to have their hands full reconstructing the ceiling in the lowest level of B building. I’m sure I can suffer a little longer – either by leaping like an idiot or walking around with wet shoes.
Because let’s face it – I’m clearly never going to take the paved path.
