There are two things, dear reader, you should know about me before embarking on this column. First, despite my best efforts, I am a coastie. I grew up in Westchester, N.Y., cherish my hooded North Face as if I gave birth to it and will never really understand Packer fans. That being said, unlike most New Yorkers who come to UW-Madison, I lived in the public dorms, never joined a sorority and prefer pants over no-pants. I have effectively separated myself from campus coastie culture and spend most of my time with good ol' Midwestern folk, don'tcha know.
The second thing I should note is that I have no stealth whatsoever. My whisper is the volume of a normal person's voice, and every time I try to lie I end up laughing or apologizing profusely.
My inability to sneak proved particularly problematic when, at the suggestion of a friend, I attempted to ride the Towers bus. You know the one I'm talking about: the cruel mistress that glides past you when you trudge through the slush on your way to class. Out of a combination of anger, jealousy and curiosity, I decided to take up the challenge and find out whether this chariot of the gods was everything I imagined it would be: gilded seats, a butler named Jeeves, Ian's pizza topped with caviar and maybe even some laughter directed at the plebeians out in the cold.
Phase 1: Know your enemy
As it would have been impossible to achieve this on instinct and pure bullshitting, I did my research. I gave Towers a call to find out what exactly was up with this elusive bus. I put on my best Westchesta accent to blend as seamlessly as possible, and-to my surprise-they bought it. They told me most of what I needed to know: A special sticker is required in order to get on the bus, and it runs the basic route of the 85, a campus route that is already free. Meaning the purpose of the bus is not to take residents of the building somewhere special, but to offer them a comfortable way around campus that doesn't necessitate mixing with the riffraff.
Phase 2: Getting the proper paperwork
Paperwork may not be the right term; it was more like getting the proper sticker. I convinced a friend who lives in Towers to relinquish his sticker, and after a promise of copious beer, he agreed. So after some careful knife work and Krazy Glue, my student ID bore the Towers mark.
Phase 3 - "What's a coastie?"
If this was going to work, I would need the proper uniform: v-neck, leggings, a North Face jacket and some Hunter boots for good measure. However, I would only go so far. Leggings are not and never will be a replacement for pants, so my jeggings would have to be an adequate replacement. With these minor exceptions-and the fact that I would not attempt a Brazilian blowout for my Jewfro-I looked the part. I was on my way to bourgie paradise.
Phase 4 - The easy part
Now all I had to do was actually catch the bus. It leaves every half hour from a stop on Frances Street, so the operation of getting on the bus should be pretty simple, right? Well, maybe for an organized, grounded human being, but I am neither of those things. Although I had put so much effort into the details of my mission, I continued to put it off thanks to combination of fear and an addiction to "Downton Abbey."
Around noon, after finally getting up the courage, I made my way over to Langdon. There it was: that great, blue enigma. The Moby Dick to my Captain Ahab. After conquering it, I would embarrass it with my words for all to read. However, there was a factor I had failed to take into consideration: wheels. The bus has them and I, alas, do not. Therefore, when the bus pulled away, myself a block behind, no amount of running or flailing did anything to stop it. I was determined to catch the next one, but there was a feature the people at Towers had failed to inform me of: It stops running at noon, and I, unfortunately have a deadline. Dammit.
So now, my enemy remains at large. I tried, I erred, but there will be more battles in the future. Plus, I still have that sticker on my ID. I may have to lay low for a while seeing as my scheming thought process is being published with my name on it, but mark my words, Towers Bus: I will be back!
Are you an offended Towers resident who does not want a hoodlum like Ariel Shapiro boarding your bus? Well, she does not care, but you can try to scare her away by e-mailing arshapiro@dailycardinal.com.
