Upon returning from Spring Break, I noticed something remarkable at the first floor Northeast entrance to Sierra Hall. The sign reading “Broken Door – Please Use Other Door” was GONE. Someone had conjured up the resources and wherewithal to repair the door. I purposefully entered and exited that formerly broken door two or three times that day. It felt really refreshing, like a cool breeze on a spring morning, or a short line at Jamba Juice, or buying a textbook that didn’t require regular plasma “donations.” You know the feeling.
The very next day, sipping my morning coffee purchased from an overly loud Freudian Sip near you, I was shocked to notice the return of the sign. I had been duped. The door wasn’t fixed at all. The sign was missing the other day and now it’s back. It reminded me of the Bush family. I watched as throngs of students were corralled through a more narrowed opening, like so many sheep. Which again reminded me of the Bush family. I began to wonder if that door was ever going to get fixed. I’ll bet that no one even cares that the door has been broken for years. Which reminded me of the Atlanta Hawks.
I strongly believe all departments in Sierra Hall should pool their resources, via a bake sale or kissing booth, and give the broken door a gift. It could be two or three years broke. Who knows? What do you buy a two-year-old broken door? I’m going with a gift card. Maybe a Babies R Us gift card or Chili’s. I’m sure the door wants his “baby back baby back ribs.” Some of us may want to make something. How about a collage of photos from magazines that will help to express our feelings? Many of us can just bring our collages from our “college assignments” at Pierce, the home of higher education-style collages.
I guess I am a little concerned about the door. After all, what’s the hold up on the repair? Did its medical insurance run out? It’s on state property, it must be in a union. On second thought, union membership is no longer a guarantee, just ask grocery workers. Should someone wake our governor from his Hummer-induced stupor? I know he’s busy saving the world from global warming, but come on. If that door were wearing a mini-skirt he’d come down here. Can we call someone? Or size the door for lingerie? I just don’t get it.
Let us suppose eight or nine students protested by tying themselves to the same Sierra Hall entrance. I am quite sure one of the three hundred personnel who showed up would “fix” that problem. I am also quite sure said “protest” would most likely involve parking or Burger King pricing or the results of “American Idol” voting. Important stuff. I am one of those people who believe “college protests” never existed. Like dinosaurs.
The point being, the door is broken and has been broken for a remarkable period of time. I did some research on broken doors. I, of course, began my research on the first floor computer lab at the Oviatt Library. Or as I like to call it, the “MySpace Wing.” I waited for a computer that wasn’t being used for MySpace. Then I left. After all, six hours in a library is no way to engage in research. I got to thinking that a better name for the library would be the “We talk really loud on our cell phones Library.”
Back to my research. I started at Wikipedia, where all good research begins. Then, I clicked on something, and then something else, checked baseball scores, looked at pictures of Yosemite. I looked up Iran Contra (for fun) and realized this door is big. I got so emotionally charged, I decided to grab on to a microscopic amount of bad information and develop a theory about the door. Just like Rosie O’Donnell’s knowledge of metallurgy and structural engineering in regard to 9/11, I too am well prepared to spout off with no regard for common sense.
The door, as it turns out, was most likely built in a foreign country. I know what you’re thinking: scary! This valid assumption is based on the fact that nothing is made in this country anymore, except empty-headed celebrity and motion pictures conceived on a bar napkin. Here’s the thing: These foreigners (whoever they are) have created a dangerous situation by not building a replacement door. What if the door up and decides to squeeze one of us?
On second thought, this door has every right to squeeze us. Look at the way we treat its “brokenness.” It is cruel. If the sign was gone one day and up the next, that means there is a “sign guy” who is in charge of that activity. He’s probably a private contractor and doesn’t have any interest in the future of the door. Logically, which is not the way things are done, there should be a “fix things that are broken” guy. Look around. We have a “guy who watches the other guy mow guy,” and the “guy who opens a line in the Sierra Center when it gets busy,” and the “guy who sits in the box at the library entrance for no reason guy.” There are a whole lot of jobs around campus. Has the “door repair guy” gone on vacation? After seeing that article in the paper, I would bet this guy probably makes more money than half my professors.
I have decided that I am going to ignore the sign. I am going to use that door every single time I enter Sierra Hall. And if I have a couple minutes to burn I am going to go slalom-style through the doors over and over for old times sake. It may be that the door isn’t broken at all, but that the guy who wrote the sign is not willing to fix it. Or more likely, his bosses do not wish to fix the door, because they are busy cutting salaries or increasing fees, so they leave the sign on the door. After all, it is much easier to write a sign saying “broken” than to just fix the door. It’s the illusion of due diligence. All of which reminded me of the Bush Administration.
