i
Page 2/The Battalion/Monday, September 14, 1987
Opinion
Help on the way for cyclists, other addicts^ 1
The man in the
orange cycling
shorts stood up.
He was sweating.
He glanced
around the room
and smiled
nervously.
“Hi,” he said.
“My name’s Scott,
and I’m . . . I’m a
bike rider.”
“Hi, Scott,” the
group said together
Scott frowned. “I don’t know where
to begin
Mark
Nair
‘Start wherever you like, Scott,” the
Good Doctor said, smiling. “Remember,
we’re all in this together. We’re all going
to help each other. Just be open.”
Scott paced. His cycling shoes clicked
sharply against the floor.
“I suppose it all started with my Big
Wheel,” he said. “A Christmas present,
you know. But then I gradually moved
on to bigger things: a tricycle for my
second birthday, a pair of training
wheels here, a banana seat there. Soon I
was up to ten speeds without even
knowing it.
“It really got bad when I was in
college and started riding to school. It
was practical transportation, and the
bike lanes were safe. But after a while,
the adrenaline rush was no longer
there. I need more. Something more
exciting.
Several members in the group
nodded.
“So,” Scott continued, “I started
riding in the car lanes, and when the
cars would back up for a light I would . .
. I would zip in between them.” He
wiped his mouth with his hand. “At
times, I would even run stop signs and
cut in front of cars without signaling.”
He was breathing heavily now. “Can I
have some water please? I’m very
thirsty.”
Someone handed him a water bottle.
He drank with long, deep swallows.
“Of course,” he said, water running
down his chin, “it wasn’t all my fault.
The drivers, they’re crazy. In my early
days, when I obeyed the rules, they
would never pay attention to me. I
would stop at stop signs, of course I
would, but when it was my turn to go,
cars wouldn’t yield. The would just
drive, and drive, and drive! And then
honk. At me!”
He drank again, with his eyes closed
and head tilted far back.
“Go on, Scott,” someone said.
“Yes, go on,” the Good Doctor added.
Scott took a deep breath. “I think the
cars, the drivers with their leering grins
and taunting middle fingers, those were
what put me over the edge. It wasn’t
long after that when I bought my first
pair of. . . of. . . Oh! Do I have to say
this?”
Papal mass defies
gloom predictions
We came. We
saw. We
celebrated Mass.
All 300,000 of
us.
And despite
predictions of
gloom, doom and
destruction, the papal Mass in San
Antonio ran smoothly.
Prior to Texas’ first papal visit,
controversy surrounded the 144-acre
site where the Mass was scheduled to be
held.
Red Cross volunteers were immediately
at her side.
And the most strenuous task some
camouflage-clad National Guardsmen
faced all day was retrieving hats blown
off the heads of the Mass-goers.
Yes, there was even a breeze, which
made the humid Texas heat a little
more bearable.
Crowds exceeding 1 million people
will mob the grounds and surrounding
neighborhoods, the experts said. There
won’t be enough water, first aid stations
or toilets, they said. And there will be
too many fire ants.
Nothing short of a miracle, it seemed,
could save the Mass and the masses
from utter devastation.
The altar, though it lacked the twin
150-foot towers destroyed by high
winds two days before the Mass, was still
easily visible. The sound system was
superb.
The pope spoke eloquently in fluent
English and Spanish.
If it sounds like I’m carrying on, it’s
only because I was sincerely amazed.
The most vocal and visible of the
naysayers was Dr. Katharine Rathbun,
San Antonio’s former health director.
She resigned her job, charging that
hundreds could die because organizers
of the Mass were ill-prepared.
“It’s just hard to believe if you’ve
never dealt with disaster work that a
church service could kill people,” she
said in an Associated Press story a
couple of weeks ago. “There’s nothing
in the fact that it’s a church service that
is going to do away with the heat and
sun of a San Antonio September.”
I don’t know what I was expecting.
People dropping like flies around me,
perhaps. Having to “hold it” for hours
on end. Or simply utter chaos.
But I, like many of my fellow
pilgrims, was pleasantly surprised.
And a little annoyed with those who’d
cried “wolf.”
All the negative publicity, no doubt,
kept a lot of potential pilgrims away.
Organizers advised only those in top
physical health to attend, excluding the
young, the elderly and the
handicapped.
While the relatively low turnout made
it more comfortable for those of us who
did attend, I can’t help but feel sorry for
those who were scared away.
They missed the angelic sounds of a
But there were plenty of toilets, water 500-member-strong choir. They missed
and Red Cross volunteers. And nobody
died. Even traffic problems were
minimized by an efficient shuttle bus
system.
The city was obviously prepared for
Pope John Paul II.
This was, in fact, the most impressive
part of the whole production — the
organization.
Of course it helped that the turnout
was actually 200,000 short of the
estimated 500,000.
People strolled casually to and from
the site. Nobody was trampled.
When an elderly lady fainted, three
the sense of unity felt by all those
present, Catholic or not.
They missed a universal message of
hope brought by the world’s most
widely-recognized religious leader.
They missed a well-organized
historical event.
But, more to the point, they missed a
beautiful celebration.
It’s not every day you get to see the
pope.
Karen Kroesche is a senior journalism
major and At Ease editor for The
Battalion.
The Battalion
(USPS 045 360)
Member of
Texas Press Association
Southwest Journalism Conference
The Battalion Editorial Board
Sondra Pickard, Editor
John Jarvis, Managing Editor
Sue Krenek, Opinion Page Editor
Rodney Rather, City Editor
Robbyn Lister, News Editor
Loyd Brumfield, Sports Editor
Tracy Staton, Photo Editor
“Please,” the Good Doctor said. “I
will help you.”
Scott looked down. “I’m out of
water,” he said.
Someone handed him another wa
bottle.
Scott poured the water over his fa
He pushed his hair away.
“They were toe clips. My first pair
They transformed me into a bullet o
wheels.” He looked around the roo
slowly. His eyes were bloodshot; dar
bags were piled beneath them. His f
was taut and miserable. “And then t
was that day . . .” His voice drifted of
“Aw, don’t stop now,” said the pe
with the water bottles.
“I was at a red light,” said Scott, “
a lot of other bike riders. Before the
light turned green they started to cr
the street. I was going to wait for the
light, but then they started chanting
‘Come on, Scott, don’t wait. Cross wi
everyone else. Nobody waits for the
light anymore.’ And I couldn’t resist. I
had to go. I had to submit. I was peer-
pressured into crossing before the
green light. I was thrown into a life of
bicycle crime. I couldn’t stop after that.
I had to ride. I had to satisfy the
craving.”
Scott blew his nose in a handkerchief
melodramatically.
“Now, I ride as close as I can get to
people. It’s a thrill to watch them jump
back in surprise. It’s feels great to have
them call me names. It is the best thing
to ride as dangerously as possible.” He
lowered his head. “But I hate it. It’s
tearing me and my roommates apart. I
hate it. I need help.”
He sat down and started crying.
The Good Doctor crossed his legs.
“Don’t worry, Scott. We all understand
that cyclists like yourself thirst for the
help and benefits that our group
therapy can offer. All of us in this room
have problems, some similar and some
different. But what weallhaveii
common is our need for guidanct
aid. We are all experiennngtrau:
But soon, we will all be able toco:;
them and defeat them.” TheGoa
Doctor smiled a perfect smile.“Oi
who else would like to introduce
himself?”
A woman stood up in theconr
was wearing a tight miniskirt and
luminous pink lipstick.
“Hi," she said,
id I’m in a sore
my name is 1
nty.
"Oooooooooh," said thegrouj
together.
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Battalion.
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Rep. Kent
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64
The way air travel is these days... we decided to walk south for will
Mail Call
Lines, lines everywhere
EDITOR:
Behind the times
Texas A&M students can register by telephone and
request fee options. They can also pay all fees, including
optional fees, by mail or in person.
But A&M students have to wait in lines and waste
hours in front of the University Police Department trying
to pick up their already-paid-for parking permits. Why?
Because, according to the UPD, students have not
registered their cars yet. But can students register their
cars in advance? No.
During the first summer session, I tried to register my
car to avoid problems in the fall, but with no success.
I came back on Sept. 2. On Sept. 4,1 went to the UPD
to pick up my parking permit. There were no lines, but an
officer sent me home because it was “juniors day,” and I
am a graduate student. She told me to come back on Sept.
5 — “all students day.”
Saturday morning I returned to the UPD, but a
policeman stopped me at the entrance to the parking lot.
He said thatbecause of the long lines of students already
waiting, the UPD was not able to assist anyone else. He told
me to comeback on Sept. 10, another “all students day”.
What was in front of the UPD on the morning of Sept. 10?
A long line ofstudents.
The currentsystem of providing students with their
parking permitsis slow, rigid, and forces A&M students to
waste valuabletime. The police could hook up with the
University’stelephone registration system to allow
students tc register their cars at the same time they ask for
parking permits Students could then receive by mail, with
no hassle, theirregistration slip, I.D. cards and parking
permits.
Erika Gonzalez-Lima
graduate stu dent
EDITOR:
This letter is in response to the September 10 letterfo
the “Virgins Only” club members. Your concern forll*
virgin status of the Class of’91 is about as touchingasc
conduct of LSU fans while visiting A&M, and your
remarks aboout Fish Camp are inexcusable.
After attending as a freshman, three-time counse;
chairman, and campfire speaker, I feel I am qualified
comment.
First, the last all-night dance was held at FishCainf;)
’85. Second, the freshmen were never “forced” to
participate in this aspect of camp. Third, the hand-hol:
is used to form a single line for going to camp meeting
rooms. The single line is formed to provide camp unit'
and to also provide a lead for each person as he walks
through the campground at night.
As far as counselors engaging in and encouraging
general promiscuity, I strongly disagree. A fewisolaie £
incidents over the past several years is nothing in
comparison to the thousands of freshmen and counsel*
who have had a positive Fish Camp experience.
It is sad that you are so narrow-minded that you cj £
see Fish Camp for what it really is. Fish Camp is nota^
for freshmen to experience an attack on their virgin!!'
a time for them to grow as people, to develop lasting
friendships and to learn what being a Texas Aggieisa
about.
Cliff Dugosh ’86
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorialstol
reserves the right to edit letters for style and length, but will make every effif'-
maintain the author's intent. Each letter must be signed dnd must indvit^
classification, address and telephone number of the writer.
BLOOM COUNTY
THEY WERE RIOHT, OF COURSE.
THE THIN05 FROM OUR PAST
ARE SOMEHOW THE PEAREST...
by BerKe Bread
..A/VP AS HE SHUEELEP RACK
(NW REP, OLIVER WCK6P //V
WITH HIM ONE VERY SPECIAL
THOUOHT OLEANEP FROM
THIS PHANTOM EVEN IN0 :