If the bitter cold and amorphous humans walking around in several layers of winter clothing weren’t enough evidence that winter has come, Mother Nature has graced the streets with an even more obvious sign this week: snow.
For some, snow brings tidings of Christmas. For others, it means finals are approaching with the much-anticipated winter break. No group collectively sighs louder, though, than commuters. While there is ultimately no great option for winter commute — you’ll be cold no matter what — the various woes of taking the bus, biking and driving actually leave the age-old fallback of walking as the least terrible option.
The real menace of the winter commuter is the fellow commuter. Best friends become the worst of enemies while sliding, slipping and just generally being too moist for comfort on their long trek to class. Good people become their worst possible selves while dodging through traffic in the desperate scramble to make it to the destination in one piece and on time.
Frostbitten cheeks and soggy socks cast a strange spell on those riding the bus. A once calm environment now becomes a claustrophobic, smelly and hot metal box lumbering along at a speed that is either too fast to respect personal space or too slow to believe. Amidst the string of curses, dirty looks and muffled apologies through 12 scarves, the hot flames of irritation creep into sight. Once the desired stop rolls around, the desperate clamber over other passengers to hit that skinny yellow lifeline of a stop request in time leaves passengers breathless at the curb. Sweaty and annoyed, droves of student walk into class.
If that doesn’t seem the preferred way to travel, there is always the environmental choice. Biking is a must in college, especially if you want to get places fast. Unfortunately, most students from warmer areas were never told that those dreamy summer rides turn into hellish winter struggles. Tears pour from riders’ eyes as tires desperately grasp for the asphalt, only finding more and more snow. Sweaty, wet and sore is often how this mode of travel leaves its followers. If the unplowed lanes and the piercing wind don’t deter riders, the cars surely will. Perfectly good human beings turn into angry dogs barking out their windows at riders. Forgetting all traffic laws, they consider the lowly bike no more than a nuisance with no right to the road. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, the lock must be unceremoniously banged against a wall to free up the cable to lock the bike.
Behind door number three for potential travel, if someone happens to be lucky enough to have the means, is driving. With heated seats, ample room and any music desired, it would seem like the perfect solution. Then the theory is put into practice. Arms grow chorded with muscle from early morning slaving to clear a small hole in the thick ice on a windshield. Heart rates skyrocket as turns turn into fishtails, jeopardizing the “in one piece” aspect of the commute. Then there is the biker. A driver’s natural enemy, every morning they square off on the narrow lanes of Regent Street, honks punctuated by one finger salutes. Steam pours from exhaust and ears alike, both swerving to avoid disaster as the two-wheeled warriors assume both pedestrian and automobile privileges. After parking a mile from class to avoid the charge of a lot, drivers trudge through slush negating the warmth of their chariots to go about their everyday lives.
As winter rears her ugly head and citizens of Madison choose which commute puts a less bitter taste in their mouth, perhaps bundling up and walking is a better answer.
Elias Radtke (eradtke
