A Commuter’s Lament: The Quest to Park at Seton Hill

Alas, even the sign in Lot A denies my hope at a parking spot. Photo by H.Carnahan/Setonian.

I awoke before the sun, piling my important and necessary belongings into my caravan (a.k.a. My 2004 Chevy Cavalier that hasn’t been vacuumed in months). With a heavy sigh, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and place my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose. I’m ready.

Today, I will achieve my quest.

Today, I will arrive to Lot A before anyone else. And I will park within walking distance to my classroom.

But first, coffee. A stop at the nearest Dunkin acquires me an iced mocha with cream and sugar.

Coordination +5.

At last, it is time to set upon my journey. Numerous obstacles impede my progress– endless swarms of traffic, stoplights that only last about two seconds before they turn red once more and the villainy of construction crews blocking the one road I need to access.

I have a choice to make after my long trek: Do I sneak up to the enemy via the backroads of the Sisters of Charity or do I dare take it head on via the Hill? I decide to be bold, and take in the sights of the trees as I wind up the Hill. At long last, Lot A comes into view, and it seems as if all hope is lost.

Every spot is taken. I loop once and I loop twice; I’m not the kind to park and wait. Oh, but there! Someone is leaving their spot. Quickly, before– oh, shoot, someone already pulled in. I reluctantly head towards B Lot with a heavy heart and waste of gasoline.

Here, I find one spot to park in. But, alas, it’s a parallel parking spot, and my Dexterity level is too low. Maybe I could find a spot in– Nope, Boyle Lot is closed due to athletic event today.

Look! A rare occurrence! Photo by H.Carnahan/Setonian.

Time to wrap around to Lot D. At this point, I’m going to be late for class. Will the professor accept the excuse that there was literally nowhere to park?

At long last, I find solitude… all the way behind DeChantal. I brace myself for the long expedition as I park my car and gather my belongings. The minute I step foot out of my car, a raindrop lands on my head. Oh, well, ‘tis but a sprinkle. I decide to leave my umbrella on the backseat.

I lug my backpack, purse, lunch box, presentation board due today and sense of pride across the pavement. Not even halfway to A Lot, it becomes a torrential downpour. Should’ve brought the umbrella–

Intelligence -2.

Downtrodden, out of breath, shoes literally falling apart from being drenched and possibly missing a $5 bill that fell out my bag along the way, I emerge victorious at the long pathway in A Lot.

I’m in the homestretch and can make a mad dash towards the safety of cover.

To my right, a car pulls out of a spot. Part of me considers racing back to the car to move spots and avoid the long hike later, but I know the endeavor would be fruitless.

One day I will get a parking spot in Lot A.

I finally get to class and we are asked to turn in our printed homework assignment. I look through my bag to find it missing from my folder. I’ll have to print another copy. When I open my laptop, I discover the wifi is down. Then I remember– when I grabbed the paper at home from the printer, I placed it on my back seat… with the umbrella.

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