There has been many-a-day when getting out of bed just to go sit in a lecture hall for 50 minutes does not seem possible.

I wake up at 11 a.m. at the very earliest. I’m just not a morning person, and that’s okay. The whole not-being-a-morning-person thing may be my own doing, though.

Recently, I’ve gotten into the healthy habit of staring at my computer for about three hours doing absolutely nothing, then coming to and realizing it’s 3 a.m. and I still haven’t started my research paper.

At this point, I cut my losses and hope I’ll have time between classes to get at least a couple of words down on paper.

By the time I get to bed, there are only eight hours for me to get 12 hours of beauty sleep. Horrible, I know.

The next morning, I roll out of bed bright and early at 11 a.m. By roll out of bed, I mean hit snooze until 12 and then scramble to find an outfit in the pile of clean laundry that’s been sitting on my floor for a week.

I know I sound like I have a lot of unhealthy habits. I know what this looks like. But one thing I’m a stickler about is that I refuse to be late for anything.

Opening the door to a full lecture hall and people turning around to look at me and acknowledge my lateness is genuinely my worst nightmare. 

It’s the kind of experience that haunts you at night, on par with breaking a dish on your first day of work or remembering what you put up with in your last relationship. Neither of these are from personal experience.

My first class of the day starts at 1 p.m., so I leave my house by 12:30 on the dot. Leaving even five minutes late adds an unnecessary amount of stress to my “morning” routine.

First, I have to sit in my car for a minimum of five minutes to pick a song that will inspire me to leave my driveway. When the song is picked, I embark on my three-minute drive to the worst place on Earth, the Davies parking lot.

Entering the Davies parking lot is hands down the worst part of my day. I turn onto campus and stop at the four-way stop in front of Hibbard, cursing anyone who got there before me.

Then I drive up to the stop sign by visitor parking, where those lucky cars coming from the left have the right-of-way and get to enter the infamous Davies lot before me.

Watching cars exit the Davies lot is incredibly disheartening. You may be thinking, Kyra, if they’re leaving that means there are spaces open.

No.

These poor chumps circled around the lot a minimum of two times hoping and praying that a spot would open up. 

It didn’t.

Now I enter the lot, “Valerie” by the Glee Cast playing at full blast, hoping that maybe I will be one of the lucky ones.

Circling around the lot once and seeing no open spaces is discouraging, but not yet reason to throw in the towel.

By halfway through the second time around, I’m ready to give up. By some weird luck, though, I usually manage to catch someone pulling out of their spot or find a spot a little too small for anything other than a Prius.

The days this doesn’t happen, I wipe away my tears and do the drive-of-shame back down Water to park in the lot by Kwik Trip.

I have an incredible amount of empathy for those who don’t find a spot in Davies and just drive straight home. I too have seen the lack of parking and been ready to turn around and go back to bed.

The strength it takes to fight the urge to send my professor an email saying I have a horrible migraine when the car in front of me gets a spot and I don’t is unmatched.

All this being said, I have not yet skipped a class due to a lack of parking. And to those who have, I absolutely do not blame you.

 

Price can be reached at [email protected].