THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, May 24, 1996 TAG: 9605240057
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E13 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JOE MARINO CAMPUS, CORRESPONDENT
LENGTH: 63 lines
THE DOUBLE PARKING started one week before school officially ended. Parents made stealthy runs to and from campus to unload their kids' rooms, clogging up the main student parking lot in the process. It was a dismal sign of what was to come.
As my freshman year at Radford University drew to a close, I heard many accounts from upper-class friends about the horrors of ``getting out'' of town during the final week of classes. ``How bad could it be?'' I asked them. They told me to just wait and see. I think they were afraid to talk about it. Now I can see why.
I lived in Tyler Hall, the oldest building on Radford's campus, but the one most-recently renovated. It was supposed to be the nicest dorm, equipped with air conditioning, cheerful rooms and a computer lab on the first floor. Behind the building was a junior- and senior-only parking lot, which accommodated about 35 cars. Tyler was in the main quad, a group of four dorms that could hold about 600 students. This meant 600 parents' cars would try to park in 35 spaces that were perpetually occupied by students' cars.
The first few days of finals week were hot. When parents started arriving to pack up their students' dorm rooms, they parked their cars where you would expect any mature, adult drivers to - right behind the students, trapping the cars in their spaces for hours while they toiled about in the dorms.
On one of the days, the elevator in Tyler broke, as it did every month. The school never fixed it properly, so sofas, TVs, small refrigerators and other heavy items had to be carried down several flights of stairs by out-of-breath parents.
To top this off, the air conditioning wasn't working either. Actually, it had not worked since spring break ended five weeks earlier.
Another problem was that our computer lab always had computer trouble. During the final week, only 10 out of 15 computers were functioning. This caused all of the hundreds of students who had to finish papers to loiter in the hallways of the building, causing traffic, noise and excess body-heat problems.
The fact that our rooms had to be cleaned was not a happy thought, but the surgically sterile conditions that Radford wanted were completely ridiculous. Aside from removing all of our personal property, there were many other ``steps'' that had to be performed: all tape and tape marks from posters had to be removed from the walls, which then had to be scrubbed with an abrasive cleanser until they were spotless. If we did not comply we would be charged $20 per wall. The floors had to be swept clean. This included under beds and behind all furniture. After this, the furniture had to be put in the exact same place it was in at the beginning of the year. Then the floors had to be scrubbed. The school ``recommended'' it be done with a sponge and Comet. The bathroom had to be scrubbed to perfection, and no dirt could remain between the tiles. All of these steps were ridiculous because as soon as we left, the school maid service would clean every room spotless so the summer semester students could live in them.
When I was finally done with packing, cleaning, moving and taking exams, all I had to do was find a resident assistant (there were five) to look at the room, check me out of it, and take my keys. It took two hours to find an assistant and officially check out.
I've earned my horror story of ``getting out'' of town during the final week of classes. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Joe Marino by CNB