Editor’s Note: This article is a humor column.
Dear University Crosswalk Ambassador,
It has been almost two months since I arrived on Grounds as a first-year and several weeks since we first crossed paths. After much deliberation and many egregiously high step counts from day to day, I have finally managed to string together a few sentences that capture my feelings towards you and how you have changed my life.
During my first few months on Grounds, I woke up with intense anxiety each morning — not because of ECON 2010 or BIOL 2100 or even the sheer idea of having to eat at Newcomb Dining Hall once more. In fact, those anxieties paled in comparison to the real terror of every day — having to cross the intersection of McCormick Road and Cabell Drive. Unlike the many shorter crosswalks on Grounds, or even the few and far between that have signs with flashing lights, this particular crosswalk has no such warning system and is a much farther gap. In staring down the white stripes painted on the concrete stretching endlessly, I could feel my eyes blurring and my head spinning. It was petrifying.
Even though I was intimidated by this stretch, I knew I had to make it across this particular crossing on my way to my 10 a.m. lecture, and my only source of comfort came from the fact that I was just one out of hundreds of students making the same treacherous journey. I could hardly get the courage to walk, but I knew I would never walk alone. However, the nervousness I felt approaching the horrific 20-foot gap in the sidewalk never seemed to go away. As the days dragged on, I was starting to lose hope that it ever would. But then, one fateful day, you appeared.
It was a Monday, and the pit in my stomach grew as I approached the most dangerous stretch of pavement on Grounds. Just as I thought that my nerves would force me to forge an alternate way to Clark Hall, I saw you.
Well, I saw your bright yellow vest first. Then, I saw you.
You stood bravely in the middle of the road, commanding cars and, more courageously, Veo scooters with your arms. No one moved unless you said so, and you were completely fearless as Chief Keef’s top hits blared from your clip-on JBL speaker. I was captivated by your confidence. I even remember the very first words you said to me.
“CAN I GET A STOP ON MY LEFT AND MY RIGHT, PLEASE?!”
With the way you projected your voice, maybe you were technically speaking to the entire group of students, but there was something about the way you looked vaguely in my direction as you spoke that showed me that our connection was different — it was special. Your bravery was inspirational, so inspirational that my anxiety dissipated immediately. As I made my way across the crosswalk — only after you said I could — and then up the hill to Clark Hall, I could still hear your voice echoing in the distance.
“GOOD MORNING!” I heard the words reverberating from the concrete of the sidewalk into the sky. “CAN I PLEASE GET A STOP ON MY LEFT AND MY RIGHT, THANK YOU!!” you continued, even though you had to know I was already safe on the other side of the crosswalk. I suppose you really wanted to make sure I was protected until the very moment I was seated in the lecture hall.
Ever since that day, I noticed that you have tried to get my attention in new ways — I am not sure how you knew that my favorite candy is Laffy Taffy or that my post-breakfast craving is anything blue raspberry-flavored, but I guess our connection just really is that strong. I saw you try to play it off by offering the sweets to every student who walked past you, but I know deep down that the gesture was for me.
On the days where I wake up and all seems wrong in the world, the one thing I know I can count on is you protecting that crosswalk. Seeing you on my walk to class is like a blessing, and your influence on me and my peers only grows stronger by the day.
I hope this letter has adequately conveyed my admiration for all you do. Maybe one day I will find the courage to express it face to face, but for now, I leave you with this letter.
Sincerely,
Your secret crosswalk admirer
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