The day had begun much like any other. Soft earth beneath my feet, dew beginning to collect on each blade of grass, and the soft smell of shuttle exhaust wafting drearily through the crisp morning air. After finishing my eight hour shift at the local delicatessen, I made my way past the funeral home to the shuttle stop located conveniently at Whitney Lot, a brisk 10 minute walk away. The same walk I made every other day. All I had wanted to do was get home, draw a warm bath, put my feet up and relax with a good book. Little did I know, this trip would be nothing of the sort.
As time slowly passed me by I sat there contemplating my unfortunate situation beside the trash receptacle on the curb to my right. Images of a younger sibling driving my once newly acquired baby blue Ford Taurus complete with power lock, power steering and power switch located conveniently below the dashboard plagued my thoughts. One minute rolled into the next as I watched the moon slowly make its way across the star laden sky above, my tolerance growing ever more impatient with each passing moment.
Twenty minutes later there arrived the answer to my prayers. As if on cue, a swarm of cold blooded dance hall flunkies descended upon the shuttle like flies on a Caliente pepper. What ensued was the most heart-wrenching tale of my entire life. Before I could make my way up the three small steps to salvation, I was met with unbridled courtesy and civility. The door closed and the shuttle rolled away. As the wheels on the bus went round and round, I stood alone, dejected and with a forlorn glance cast in the direction of Quinnipiac University, a single tear fell from my eye. I, Dan Aceto, was left behind.
The Quinnipiac shuttle service has made a turn for the worse, a turn that no longer seems nearly as scenic when making a right out of the New Road entrance. As an upstanding and law-abiding citizen nothing makes me happier to see shuttle drivers adhering to the two person per seat law, despite the breadth of cozy and spacious rubber interiors offered within. Students however, are speaking out.
“If there’s one thing I noticed about the Quinnipiac shuttle, is that it’s not there, in fact it seems to me as though it’s never there. When I go and try to wait for the shuttle, when I go and try to do my daily citizenly activities, I feel as though I’m oppressed by the shuttle drivers who stand between me and my desired goal,” said Sean Perkins, sophomore public relations major.
“Well first of all, the shuttle is under the shadow of the disapproval of the respectful element in society, therefore, I choose not to ride them,” said Joe Runfola, sophomore business major.
Alex Boden, a sophomore business major, remembers a time when shuttles arrived promptly, a time when things were different. “Last year I could take the shuttle, go to Shaw’s, wait in line with my groceries, quickly load them into my backpack and be back to campus in an hour,” Boden said. Now, Boden lives in fear of taking the shuttle back with merchandise.
Brad Bory, a sophomore health science major, recalls when he was told to give up his seat. “We were sitting out back the shuttle, when all of a sudden the driver remarks, ‘ I see you in the back there. Now get out.’ Before we even had a chance to react we were told off by her menacing eyes. I’ll never forget those eyes,” Bory said. Bory then began to repeat this phrase over and over, undoubtedly echoing through the hollow recesses of his very mind, as the trying situation evidently brought back horrific memories for the young lad.
When asked if race at all played a factor in the shuttle driver’s decision, both Anglo-Saxon males remained motionless, too afraid to answer.
Though Bory’s story is shocking, it is not unlikely. Soon enough others came forward too and related their stories of struggle and anguish. Steve Hupp, a sophomore samurai in training, had this to say: “I had just got to Westwoods, it was a quarter to one and the last shuttle had just arrived. As I flagged the driver down waving my hand in the air, he continued driving past me. I’m a pasty white guy, he definitely saw me, if he couldn’t, he shouldn’t be driving.” When asked how Hupp made his way back to campus, his response? He walked.
Perhaps more of us should be walking. Perhaps all of us should.
In support of those who feel as if they have been treated unjustly here in Hamden I propose an alternative solution that can be enforced without use of the Quinnipiac shuttles. It is time for change, and I’ll be damned if we as students are not heard. We shall overcome and rise up.
By boycotting Hamden shuttles you too can make a difference. If you ride the shuttles you’re not just supporting all that is immoral, you’re supporting the jobs of those who work tirelessly from six in the morning to one in the morning, and that is wrong.
For I have dream that one day popped collar children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their Polo shirt but by the content of their Poland Spring bottle. A dream I hope to see fulfilled.
