Bradley Patterson
Hello again; and though it is a little late, welcome to spring term 1997. For those of you who have been following this series of articles, you already know that I had been out of school last term due to surgery I had on my hip in September. Well, to give an update, I am back on campus this term-to the delight of some and the dismay of others. (Can you say D.P.P.S.? I'll get to that in a paragraph or so.) Anyway, I saw my doctor at the end of December and he gave me the green light to come back to school. I must say I was very pleased ... as were my parents. So pleased, in fact, that they are taking a trip to Las Vegas to recuperate from the ordeal they have just been through-having me home for six straight months. So far I am enjoying being back here. I really jumped in with both feet as soon as I returned. What I jumped in I have yet to determine. The point is, I am trying to keep myself as busy as possible.
And I think I am doing so. I believe it is healthy to keep yourself occupied. It is especially positive for your state of mind. At least it is for me. When I am not doing something, I tend to dwell on things I cannot possibly change, like the events that occur on Melrose Place or something like that. (You know you watch it too, so don't give me any crap.) I tend to think that if a person dwells on the inconsequentials in life, they tend to get buried beneath them. Of course, setting your own course is very important also and if you find that which serves you best, more power to you. Anyway, after I got my class schedule set and had moved into my room, it was time to get my car registered with the university. As I came up to the D.P.P.S. building, I could have sworn I heard a ring announcer shout out,
"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's get ready to rumble!"
Puzzled but confident, I opened the door. It appeared that the crowd was still paying for their tickets because there were at least twenty people in line. DING! At first there was little excitement as I and my opponent went through the preliminaries. I remarked that I was here to register my car and threw a right hand full of documents. To counter, my opponent dodged and removed my registration with a swift right. After some jabbing (or jabbering, as it were) I was struck in the wallet with a $25 fee. Expecting this, I blocked with my pen and checkbook. I took the offensive and presented a check. Instead of weakening my opponent, I felt my bank account diminsh and had to hold the ropes for a moment. But I came back strong and placed my handicapper permit on the counter, hoping to strike a blow. I requested special parking as I have had the past two years.
What happened next I didn't see coming. With a mighty uppercut, my opponent attacked with a $90 special parking fee. My jaw dropped to the floor and I heard the count begin. I received a standing eight. Wobbling, I tried to recover by pulling out my credit card. Once again my wallet took the brunt of the attack. But, I thought, I will at least get some decent parking places.
With a thunderous combination, my opponent had me reeling with the old 1-2-3. That is to say, 1-2-3 lots that are sort of close to my classes. Sort of. As I heard the final bell I realized that I had made it. I walked out of the building a little bit bruised, but still alive to get in the ring another day.
I just want to comment that although I may have my disagreements with regard to parking on this campus and other similar practices, there are some very good people working for D.P.P.S. But they have jobs to do. And some of the rules and policies that apply to their jobs are out of their control. You must remind yourself, as I try to, that killing the messenger is not the answer to solving these problems. Yo Adrian!