if you want your own related pics then you can google image search them yourself OKAY

I would say "pic unrelated", but bananas relate to everything, so pic VERY related.

This morning – like every other Busch commuter – I arrived at Rutgers only to be screwed over by hordes of people in green jackets, lying down cones and stringing up the parking lots. We weren’t even given a warning this time, either: Usually, before tying off our parking lots, they manage to put up a flashing sign that indicates the precise date and time our mornings are going to be ruined by football games.

Even then, we have to go park on Livingston. Livingston! The campus is one huge parking lot, I’m serious. The map shows there are other buildings, oh yes, but I get the feeling that whoever built Livingston college just sprinkled them around so it looked like you could actually learn something there (besides parking spot hunting). And the buildings they do have are just jokes.

But today, I didn’t even know where I was supposed to park, and I wasn’t going to Livingston only to get a ticket afterwards because that wasn’t the right thing to do. So I asked the nice people in green jackets.

Nice person in green jacket #1 informed me that there was indeed another game today (despite the lack of prior warning, thanks Rutgers). Nice person in green jacket #2, guarding Lot 48, instructed me to park on the grass across the street. Great. Who thinks these things out, really? We students pay loads more to go here than anyone watching the games ever will, and we’re the ones stuck parking in the mud?

After arriving there, lots more people in green jackets started pointing in various directions, so I finally gave up and rolled down the window.

“This is parking for people going to the game only,” nice person in green jacket #3 told me. “Are you a student?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’m a student and I was told to park here.”
“Oh. Well. Would you like to buy a ticket?”
“Are you sure? You could buy a ticket and park here.”
“No, I’d just like to park, thanks.”
“Well. Go across the street, that’s where the students park.”

She pointed to the parking lot I’d just departed from. Honestly. I wasn’t ready to deal with this level of mindfuckery at 2pm in the morning. Instead, I drove up to the other person guarding lot 48 who looked loads more clueless, and they just let me in with a yawn. Worked for me.

Retrieving my car, now, that was a different story. Apparently someone forgot to inform us commuters that the A bus would no longer be stopping at Lot 48, meaning myself and my friend had to trek there on foot. It made me wonder: If the A bus isn’t stopping at Lot 48, maybe I wasn’t supposed to park there. But then again, where was I supposed to park? Some instructions may have been nice.

Then again, as a commuter with a Busch permit, I’m plain tired of getting fucked in the tailpipe every time there’s a game going on. Make the people coming to the game park on Livingston. Let them deal with the buses and the impossibility of finding their car.

And while I’m on the subject, is there really any reason to make the A bus route drop off the face of the campus after 9pm? And what about that mysterious C bus, the “Commuter” bus? It only exists about half the time, and even then, the buses come along less frequently than ones on the A or H routes. The delay effectively defeats the purpose of having a commuter bus in the first place. Maybe you should take those buses and use them to shuttle game-goers from Livingston Campus to Busch.

I paid over $100 to park on Busch. Let me park on Busch, damn it!

…and by “I”, I mean “my parents”.