Ode to Rutgers' transportation system


Oh, Rutgers transportation system…how you suck. With your 35,000 students and jerky stops, you are the shining moment to my every morning. I watch you carefully as you approach from afar and pray, just pray, that you may grant me entrance so that I may make it to class on time. Your numbing screech pierces my brain as you jerk to a stop several yards from a throng of eagerly awaiting students. Oh, Rutgers transportation system. Your doors gently swing open revealing an inconceivable number of bodies, each intimately close to the next. Although one could hear his neighbors blink, no one makes a move toward your open doors. As I slowly step forward from the streets, pondering if just one more person could fit, your doors slam shut just grazing my nose. I stand, amazed, as your engines roar back to life. I look at the faces and random appendages pressed up hard on the glass as you glide further and further in to the horizon toward Busch campus. Why! Why, oh Rutgers transportation system, would you stop and open your doors? Why would you mock us with false hopes when you are inexorably filled? You are heartless. Oh, Rutgers transportation system. I finally board an H bus just in time to completely miss class. I move deeper into your mobile cavern, eyeing each possible seat. I gracefully pass each open seat in search for one that would leave me the least scarred. Alas, your seats are filling like a cup during a monsoon. All seems lost and then I spot you — a potential seat next to a cute girl. I sit down amazed at my luck as you turn to me and smile. I look up and meet your eyes, horrified, but it's too late. Oh, girl with the distractingly large mole on your face. I sit silently, uncomfortably aware that I am being watched. Although you shut your eyes, your mole stares at me with vicious intent. I attempt to escape the situation by drowning my reality with music. All is successful until I arrive at the realization that your mole is so large it could eat me. Its gravitation draws me in closer, simultaneously misaligning the planets. Although horrified, I want to poke it. It beckons me to explore its potentially inhabitable surface. I want to set sail from the old world into the unknown, land on its shores. Explore the wilderness and colonize the new world, all that is your mole, in the name of humanity, but I digress. As I shift in my seat, disturbed by my thoughts, I realize that I should have stood…Oh, Rutgers transportation system. I yearn for the day when your seats are open and beautiful college girls roam your aisles, sprinkling me with flowers as I enter. I seek the day when I can travel from Busch to College Avenue — a distance of no more than 4 miles — in less than an hour. I dream about effortless transportation as I sleep. I'll just keep waiting for the third week of the semester when 33,000 students realize they don't need to go to class and still do kinda-sorta all right.  

George Ghanim is a School of Arts and Sciences sophomore. 


George Ghanim

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